Resident Evil: Lockdown
by AstralSpectre
Summary: Six years since Raccoon. Ex-STARS member Rebecca Chambers is summoned by the President of the US to assist in anti-bioweapon research on a private isle. What seems like a noble cause becomes a desperate attempt at escaping an ineluctable biological hell.
1. Chapter 1

RESIDENT EVIL: LOCKDOWN

Just to let all who read know, I'm doing some revising to this fic. This may include changes to the plot, for the convenience of the these revisions. Sorry for those who've taken the time to read! Also, the fic has been changed from a sequel to basically "the next story in the series" due to stretches in the storyline. I will place a similar warning for the following chapters that get revised, or you can simply put the fic on Alert. By the way, the mercenary team name "Hell's Angels" is credited to Zoshonel(thanks, buddy!) Thanks for reading Lockdown! AstralSpectre

* * *

Prologue

The place was a disaster. Computer consoles were trashed, their monitors displaying huge gaping holes with jagged glass shards around it. Old computer chairs laid strewn about, evidence that the staff here had frantically made for an escape. And among the still sparking cables and glass pieces on the ground were blood stains, thick, viscous blotches of blood. Some of the blood seemed to have trailed off into other rooms. There was so much to look into, yet noone dared to foolishly jump in.

Like an ill omen to warn others, a patrolman was found on the ground, the body completely mangled into an indescribable mess. Limbs were either missing or twisted impossibly from one point to another. Small parts, like the eyes, lips, and fingers, were sheered off cleanly. One of the "men from the company" stared at the remains of the guard, wondering just what could have gotten him. The only corpse in the vicinity, and it had to have the telltale signs of predation. From what little he knew about "the company" he imagined it was the result of some lab test subjects that went loose. Maybe it was that guard's handgun with an emptied magazine that disturbed him most. What could take that many shots and still live to kill the shooter? Either way, it wasn't his place to question what these people were doing. It was dangerous thinking for someone with this kind of job. What mattered at that moment was that the President himself ordered his group to clean out the place, so to speak.

"Hey, Benny, what're you doing over there?" called out a grouchy man. "Get over here, now!"

"Alright already, jeez," the company cleanup, Ben, replied, his words so hushed it seemed almost to himself.. He managed to break his gaze from the body on the ground and headed through the clutter of broken machinery and bloody papers. The lab was a wreck, beyond the point of quick repair. Mostly everything was expensive, too, making him wonder exactly where an underdeveloped pharmaceutical company came up with the stuff. And even then, the higher-ups in the company, the ones who instructed them on where to go and what to do, seemed oblivious of that fact.

"Ben, over here," called out a rather soft-spoken soldier from afar.

"What did you find, Roy!" cried out the soldier named Ben. He jogged lightly to the rookie's position, finding the captain, their grouchy leader, beside him. "What's wrong, everything okay?" The captain only wore a stern face, one that overshadowed a look of worry. He put away his walkie-talkie.

"I don't know how to say this exactly, but . . ."

The soldier named Roy just lowered his head, his grim eyes barely visible through his bio-protection helmet. But Ben saw it, the raw fear that he shot out of his very eyes. It made him feel queasy.

"Well, spit it out already!" Ben shouted, his heart pounding harder as each second passed. The next words came to him like a slap to the face, words that struck every nerve in his body.

"The others . . . they're dead."

"What!" Ben couldn't believe what his captain was saying. There were a whole twenty-two of them! And at the moment, only four were in the room. Cal, the fourth, was lookout, watching the door and-

"AHHHHHHH!"

There was a strangled shout from down the hall they came from, the voice sounding liquid after a few seconds. Then, nothing. Not even a gunshot. The silence afterwards drove the others into a state of temporary shock. Ben's insides turned into mush as the others just looked at each other vaguely, their hope for Cal fading. The three held up their AK's and hurried out of the office and over to the door they had just walked through minutes ago. The automatic door struggled to rise as the captain approached, the soft electronic hum of the thing echoing every five seconds uselessly. Something bulky blocked access to the door through the other side. There was a faint crunching sound, so inaudible over the electronic door, it seemed an illusion. Fresh, runny blood streamed in numerous trickles from the bottom of the door, sealing Cal's fate.

_Oh, God, Cal! He's dead!_

Even as each one of them thought it, they forced out the ruminations and doubts and turned right around. Whatever was on that side was not worth facing for the body of a fallen comrade. They needed theirs; Cal sure didn't.

"Keep your guards up!" yelled the captain. Ben took the rear, leaving Cal's remains to the killer. The young soldier, Roy, took the front; he must have been only eighteen, nineteen at best. The way his breath quivered and his eyes darted back and forth made Ben feel even more uneasy, like he was back at training. Ben's nerves began to ache like it always did when things got out of hand. However, this time was different. He had a strange instinctive understanding that he wouldn't be coming out of this alive. His adrenaline rush reached its peak, though, when the men began to hear shuffling noises from back at the derelict office. It sounded like someone stumbling over the fallen papers and chairs. They heard the high-pitched sound of an automatic door whine from one of the many passageways that led to that room. Somewhere around that very office, one of the killers could be lurking, maybe test subjects gone wrong. Desperation, despair, and rage mingled in an unbalanced craze Ben could hardly contain. "Cleaning up" did not mean going face to face with a bioweapon! They were sent in to merely collect field data and turn the anti- B.O.W. gas on. The job did appear to be too easy. It seemed they were now going to be the field data, an irony that soon began to make more sense.

The team of three marched slowly forward, wary of the cluttered surroundings and dark corners. The hallway they ran through was much obscurer than the wasted lab office. Ben could hear the rapid breathing of the others, completely unaware of his own. Sweat trickled down his back by the bucket as his body tried its best to adjust to the current threat.

Again, the automatic door, this time the one they just went through to exit the office. Whoever, whatever was killing everyone was now in the same room as them. The captain froze, his gun aiming at something the others couldn't see. Was it a test creature, or was it a person? He surely couldn't hear anything. Ben saw the captain hold his fire, unsure of the figure approaching. He leaned in to take a closer look; the figure was that of a human, only he looked injured as he silently treaded. He limped, swaggering from one side of the wall to the next. He nearly fell over after his third step forward. However, something was off.

"Don't let him get any closer . . ." whispered the captain.

"What if it's one of the guys, maybe still alive?" It was Roy who said it and he was also the only one not backing up yet. "Look, he's wearing one of our uniforms!"

"Roy, you idiot! Get the hell over here, now!" growled the captain, his voice low.

A ceiling fan hung from overhead, its light illuminating that segment of the hall ever slightly. They all backed up slowly while the injured soldier ambled clumsily. Ben could swear his right arm hung loosely, too loosely.

"Who are you, identify yourself!" the captain shouted, his voice as tense as his face appeared. "Come any closer, and I'll have to . . ."

The captain paused mid-sentence as the figure stepped into full light. They all saw it. Ben's body surged with a fear he never felt before. The soldier, that mutilated, battered form that once was a man, was lurching toward them. It was unreal, a mockery of what he knew was right and natural. The creature before them clearly defied death. It released a moan that sent chills up his spine, his blood-covered face revealing beady, gray eyes layered in pus beneath thready locks of matted hair. Such sudden decay; they were only within the complex for an hour or two. A string of bloody saliva fell from its lipless mouth, falling onto its sinewy wounds which gleamed wetly in the light. Its left leg was nearly hanging from a string of gristly flesh, the creature using it to support its upper thigh as it continued to hobble over.

In a flash of a moment, it somehow gained speed, its arms outstretched. It released a gurgled sound with a groan of suffering and hunger as it lunged for Roy. Roy opened fire as the thing put its rancid hands on his shoulders. The bullets flew through the creature, blood spurting out from its back. Yet it still continued to wrestle Roy, finding hidden strength to get closer to his face. Some yellowish liquid dribbled down the thing's mouth as it nearly tumbled the young man over. Losing his rifle in the process, Roy used any and all strength and managed to detach himself from the grotesque husk of a human. His first impulse was to turn and run for his armed allies. Ben and his captain held their guns at the ready, the two prepared to blast the thing to shit. However, like a figment of the mind come to life, the monster released something from its mouth, long and tube-like. It had many other tubes, needle-like things that could puncture through a tree. It dug into the back of the boy's neck, stopping him on the spot. Ben froze, the image surreal. Then, when things couldn't get any more impossible, long, sharp skeletal brown appendages shot out from the thing's ears. Like an insect's mandibles, it stretched out and opened. The captain looked away when he realized what the creature was going to attempt. Ben couldn't resist. His eyes were hypnotized by the chimaera before him. After a very long second, the mandibles snapped shut, spritzing blood on everything in all directions. Ben was no exception. The headless Roy slowly, wobbly slumped to floor with a wet thud. His eyes wandered drunkenly to the walking corpse, its neck engorged by the skull of the boy who was alive just seconds ago.

With a groaning shout, the captain unleashed streams of bullets all about the creature. As if in a spasm, the thing convulsed, red tiny holes appearing throughout its body. It kept its footing and tried to get closer. Dumbfounded, Ben assisted his superior and finally brought the thing down in a great puddle of oily blood. Mandibles and feeder tubes receded back within the shell that was once a person.

_All those bullets, and . . ._

Ben just stood there, watching the body of the dead monstrosity. It continued to digest the head it swallowed, making the pair wonder the extent of the thing's death. At least thirty holes through its sickly flesh. Still it showed some signs of life, if that word could even apply.

"Come on!" yelled the captain, pulling at his arm, simultaneously snapping him out of his moment of trauma. With something else at their tail end, they needed to move quickly. They ran into the office, noticing at least three more shambling, moaning things heading their way. There was a lady, her hair color indistinguishable in the blood it was soaked in, her lab coat caked with gore. Two other male scientists, one missing an eye, came at them, too, their faces utterly blank and expressionless. Through the nearby door, several more fought their way inside, struggling to get to fresh meat. Two of them were wearing the same suits as their own, the masked camo outfit. Ben had to wonder for that split second if those two would be him and the captain soon.

_How can this be happening? We were only here investigating for a short while, all fine and joking around and making fun of the company and, God, I don't want to die yet!_

The captain gave him one last look filled with much remorse. His eyes appeared teary, his facial expression one he never thought he'd see on him. It was the most horrifying sight yet, driving him over the breaking point.

"There's no chance," he stated sorrowfully, and the gun was placed below his chin and-

PANG!

"NO!"

Ben backed away from the room filled with the dead, the captain now included. There was no way he'd live. He took the captain's gun and walked backward, half-aware that the dead began feasting on the guts and limbs splayed on the marble floor. He heard movement back in the hallway where Roy was killed, noticing that the bullet-riddled creeper had gotten back up to join it for lunch. Wryly, he let out a hysterical laugh and began blasting the place down, even as the abominations came nearer and nearer.

* * *

-CHAPTER 1-

Rebecca Chambers got off her couch, turning off her television just before tossing the remote away as she walked over to her kitchen. She opened her refrigerator and took out a leftover slice of pizza from the day before, shoving it haphazardly into her microwave. She yawned, her mind still dwelling on the news flash subject she listened to just a few minutes ago. Apparently, a rather large area in Europe was bombed because of some strange outbreak. Many civilians were euthanized in the process. It vaguely reminded her of Raccoon City. The _real_ details, of course, weren't mentioned.

_Wanna watch a good horror flick? Tune in to the news at five!_ a sarcastic voice in her head lashed out.

The truth was it had become too unbearable to watch, even listen. After all, she had her share of horrible news back when. Days of agonizing biding, just waiting for the dreaded "Raccoon City is doomed" announcement to show up. Watching hopelessly as her new urban home began to fall apart all thanks to Umbrella. She was twenty-five years old now, but a helluva lot happened when she was a mere eighteen. She refused to let in the rest of the memories and took out the warmed slice from the microwave. She absently took a bite, her thoughts lingering on the surprising phone call she received just two days ago. A request to aid in research to prevent things like the "Raccoon Incident" from happening again. The caller obviously knew her role in the incident itself and realized that she had commenced her work in the biochemistry field. But what shocked her the most was that the President of the United States himself handpicked her. They were to meet at New York City. Just like that, the biochemist became a VIP as well as some super heroine.

Since the horrible days the citizens of Raccoon had to bear witness to, Rebecca helped the remaining STARS, anti-Umbrella organizations, and U.S. agents dig out the Umbrella HQ and finish them right there on the spot. Hundreds of lawbending, nature-twisting asswipes were placed responsible, and hundreds more in hiding were swept out of nearby countries. It was a time of great accomplishments, of sacrifice and of justice and relief. During the end of the big fight, she contributed more. The wiz kid, as she was known as, had done all the studying she could to make sure something like the Raccoon City Incident would never happen again. Shortly after the fall of Umbrella, Rebecca and several other determined scientists were given a lab where she studied preserved specimen found at the HQ. Her team eventually turned up with a cure for the unnatural T-virus, naming it "Daylight" in memory of a fallen doctor of Raccoon who figured out a partial synthesis during the crisis. She and her team of scientists received the Nobel Peace Prize only a year and a half ago for their unerring dedication to helping mankind. Strangely, word had it that was the only bioweapon they unearthed in the rubble of Umbrella HQ; the legendary G-virus and the oh-so-elusive T-Veronica virus were missing, as well as plenty of other strains and weapons. It would seem _somebody_ picked up well before their crumbling demise.

Regardless, Rebecca just couldn't say no to President Graham. Suppose there was another crisis somewhere, maybe involving this "outbreak" in Europe? Despite her excitement and honor for the job, she couldn't help feel uneasy about this whole thing. Even to this day, guilt had always washed over her whenever she found herself lost in thought over the technicalities of the horrors Umbrella brewed. In the past, she had lacked much confidence, especially for being an eighteen year old college grad student joining STARS. She was even considered a child prodigy in her younger years, but still the feelings of ineptitude lingered. She preferred the simple life and embraced her accomplishments silently. Regardless of her incompetence, time had been running out. She ended up choosing to face her reluctance in ability.

She went to her room, the tiny apartment suiting her well. Rebecca kept her apartment simple; not many ornaments, several pictures of herself with the family, one snapshot of her and her STARS buddies, and a big old couch across from the tv. Many people had complaints about the drab crowded place. However, aside from a nice little house in the suburbs complete with a garden, a lake in the back, and a fancy gazebo to overlook the sunset, _this _was her dream home.

The bedroom was nice and tidy, her two briefcases and carry-on already packed and set to go. Her neighbor, Abbey, said she'd take good care of her few house plants and fish while she was out, making her feel a little more at ease.

"Well, better get going," she told herself, lugging her things outside to the hallway. She gave her quiet apartment one last quick glance before closing the door and locking it; Abbey already had her spare. She had to fly from Michigan to NY, the state she'd once lived in when everything was . . . normal. She couldn't kid herself. Everything changed from that fateful day onward, when her helicopter crashed and left her team stranded. By the time she got to meet with Alpha Team, she was already the only living Bravo in the mansion.

The mansion . . .

She shook off her thoughts immediately, not wanting to remember those depressing events in her life. They fought themselves back in anyway, refusing to be forgotten. Richard, Kenneth, Enrico, all of them were dead, killed by the virus-carriers at that mansion. She kept those memories strongly suppressed, did so for nearly six years.

But now things are different, she thought. She was making a difference in the world, creating vaccines to those viruses so that nothing like Raccoon, or Sheena Island for that matter, ever happens again.

Rebecca would only remain inflated with confidence for long. She checked her cell phone for any missed calls. Nothing. Everything was in check. It was time to go. With a final sigh, she departed for the airport.

* * *

Q U E E N

It was the late evening and Queen was at the lounge watching Joker play Jack at pool. It was amusement on its own. She snickered as Joker cursed loudly at Jack's combo.

"Goddamn it! It's the fifth time in a row! At this rate, I'll lose all my earnings from our last mission!"

Jack, as placid as he always was, chuckled lightly to himself, his blue eyes appearing almost child-like. It seemed as if Queen had known everyone on the team forever. Their mercenary team was composed of some of the most skilled and interesting people from all around the world. Queen herself was from California. However, she lacked all the qualities(if it could even be called that) those valley girls had. She had short black hair, clipped back to the side. She was quite on the pale side, also having a tomboyish look to her. She wore a cut-off shirt and pants reaching down to her boots. Sure, she wasn't Miss Eloquence, but she wasn't unattractive.

"Hey, Queen! Wanna try a game with me?" It was Joker, of course, calling her over; everyone on the team was given a code name, basically to emphasize that it didn't matter where they came from, and partly because it was just fun. It had been ages since they'd call each other by their real names. Well, except for their captain.

Joker was third-in-command among their mercenary brigade they called "Hell's Angels". He excelled at handling weapons of all sorts, as well as any equipment they used, such as the vests and tasers. He was an excellent shot, but better suited for support. After all, he was the eldest of the team, which always resulted in teasing from the younger members. However, when it came to skill, none would object. He was also a decent gambler, when lady luck was on his side. His jet black hair in a ponytail and his mustache made him appear younger, but he couldn't quite hide the slight wrinkles that gave away his age.

Then, there was Jack, a true mystery only because he barely spoke. The young man was handsome, having spiky blond hair and always wearing a blue bandana around his forehead. His build was quite thin, but easily fit for combat. Sharpshooting was his forte. Naturally, he enjoyed lugging his crossbow along on missions, although it was unnecessary. Still, he was highly adept with it, just as he would with a nine millimeter. Of the team, he was fifth-in-command, which was good for someone who was fairly new in the team.

Queen crossed her legs and gave Joker a cynical look, in which he responded with a careful studying; when dealing with the only woman on the brigade, the others tended to watch their words.

"Me? Gamble? Against YOU? Please!"

"What, I'm not good enough for you, Queen?" he retorted jokingly.

"Ha! I could easily whoop your sorry ass!"

The three laughed in good-nature, their words echoing in the hotel they were staying at for the night. They were all set for their next job, given to them by a strange organization. Their team leader, King, always took care of the objectives for them, so they often had to wait for him to arrive.

"Hey! Quit fooling around," came a voice from down the hall. It was Ace, the second in command, and also the team's alcoholic. He was surprisingly slim, his shoddy, messy brown hair expressing his personality in one fell swoop. He was a lady's man, one that often ended him up with no lady by the end of the day.

To much disdain and shock, Ace was given the job of administrator for their team, which was an utter mystery all in itself. Then again, it was King, their captain, who chose him, so he must've had some talent.

"We're not fooling around," retorted Joker. "This is nothing but legit gambling, mind you."

"Quiet, old man," Ace shot back in response, "I wasn't speaking to just you."

"Knock it off, Ace, we've already packed and all," Queen added.

"Well, fine. I just hope I don't get a scolding from our captain." He sat beside Queen, stretching his legs. "So, I hear we're going in on this alone, huh?"

"Yeah, King said it'd only be us five," Queen answered, the others listening in as they continued their game.

"That's bull! Although . . . we would be getting more pay than if we brought some of the others."

The five of them had always been together on missions. They were also the most experienced of Hell's Angels. On rare occasions, they'd go their separate ways, but they worked best when on the same mission. Their platoon, anyway, was an independent branch, meeting with their superiors from time to time. But the majority of the time, it was King leading them.

"That's true," Joker added from the pool table, "then again, with you in charge of the financials, that still doesn't leave us with much."

"Why you . . ."

He was cut off when their captain marched downstairs from his meeting with a representative from the "organization". They paused looking up at him with interest.

The captain was tall and bulky. Although it was well hidden beneath his jacket, he was well-built, easily weighing two-hundred pounds, most of it muscle. He had semi-long brown hair, a part of it covering his right eye. The rest was pushed back. He had a gruff look to him, and if one were to see his right biceps and forearm, they would be able to witness his amazing tattoo that screamed rebellious. He came over, looking stern as always, yet in person, he really was a fun guy to be around. He was in his early thirties, but his face and body appeared only twenty-five.

"You guys ready?" he asked, his voice deep and low.

"Whenever you are," Ace replied with a half smile.

"What's the deal?" Queen asked him, standing up as she did so.

King steeled himself a moment to think before speaking, closing his eyes in the process.

"Our job will be more espionage than anything this time around, so prepare yourselves."

"Aw, man!" Ace blurted out in disappointment. "I hate spying around!"

"I must concur with the idiot," Joker agreed with a nod.

"Hmm, doesn't bother me," Jack said from seemingly nowhere.

" . . . You're weird," Ace said with a puzzled look. "I'd rather just blow things up instead." Ace was also a good shot, especially talented with hand-to-hand combat, making him useful for something, or at least a temporary shield.

"Whatever, let's get this over with," Queen said with a tired smile. "I want to go to Vegas by the time this is all over."

"Likewise," Ace said while stretching.

"Well, what do you say we hit the hay?" Joker inquired, the pool table stick in his hands.

"You and your old-timer expressions," Ace stated with a smile before walking off to bed.

"You're an ass, you know that?" he shot back, also heading upstairs.

"I'm beat," Jack finished, being the last for the moment to go up.

"Everything okay, captain? You've seemed overly stressed lately." Queen noticed he had something on his mind for awhile.

"Oh, not really. Sorry, Queen. You know, I told you guys you could call me by my real name."

"Nah! King suits you well. Ever since you came, you've pulled us up. Now, everybody hires us. Remember when President Graham asked us to do that last mission?"

"Hah! Yeah, what a nightmare."

The two laughed for some time, barely noticing how late it was getting.

"Well, you better get some rest for tomorrow," King told her.

"You're right. Have a good night, captain."

"Same to you."

Queen headed upstairs to her room, wondering what exactly the job was. However, the team always trusted the captain's decision, the same way he would put his life in their hands. He always made sure the job was safe enough. Six years ago, life was very miserable. The pay was lousy, work was dull, and Hell's Angels didn't see much action as it was. However, he pulled them out of the slump. A real go-getter, he was. Or maybe someone who tried to forget a lot by pushing forward. It was futile trying to figure him out. They've all grown fond of the man, despite his enigmatic past.

Then again, all of them had their secrets. She decided to stop thinking about it and go to sleep. The following day was going to be a big one indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

-CHAPTER 2-

Rebecca lugged her things onto the luggage belt, exhaling deeply with both hands on her waist. She was well on her way to speak with this representative of the President, to receive a briefing on the "urgent matter". And quite frankly, she was shitting bricks. She'd done some rather extraordinary work worthy of praise in her time, but to do something for the good of the nation? Rebecca was very nervous, to say the least. They did mention that there would be others just like her there, people from all over the U.S. who've made a name for themselves in the name of science as well. Feeling suddenly unaccomplished, she felt the tinge of tension rise again. At least she wouldn't be alone; although it was pleasant at times, Rebecca didn't really care too much for the flattery she received for surviving what she called a scientific freak-show.

Rebecca ran a limp hand through her messy short brown hair before moving onward. Her simple white t-shirt, rolled-up jeans, and worn sneakers were hints enough as to how well she was doing with her time. Apparently, running late. She hurried to the plane destined for New York, steeling herself for the tremendously important duties that were to be given to her. Once on board, her carry-on laced securely around her left arm, she scanned the seating, noticing nervous faces from many different people all over. A young man with a ponytail and strange scar seemed to stick out, though, considering how many couples and families there were onboard. Other than that the passengers were nothing out of the ordinary.

She found her seat and sank into it with a relieved sigh. She wasn't one for liking airplane rides. However, the fear of flights suddenly didn't compare to the awesome journey she'd try to prepare for. Rebecca got lost in thought, wondering exactly why she was so worried. Most likely, they needed her expertise on some matter, probably not pertaining to anything like the T-virus. In fact, they plausibly just wanted to hand her a position among their ranks, which would be great. Working in her own lab was a dream she never imagined would happen ever since her STARS ordeal. But despite all of it, for the moment, she needed to rest and clear her mind.

She shut her eyes, slowly drifting into a dreamland where things were getting better, where all her fears and anxieties would fade-

-when a light voice sounded from the intercom and suddenly, the plane began racing forward, her unready limp body bouncing lightly off her seat. She let a strangled gasp and froze, feeling like an eighteen-year-old again. Within minutes, the plane was up in the air. Rebecca's hands began to sweat slightly, noticing her plane frights hadn't dissipated in all the years. The plane was rising at last. Even though her ears were already ringing, she couldn't help but feel alleviation diffuse throughout her body. She thought one last time about the meeting and the favor they wanted from her. With strong resolve building inside of her, she firmly determined that she'd be brave about the whole shebang. No more worrying. There couldn't possibly be any danger to what they would ask her to do. So she was at least guaranteed that . . . right?

Before drifting back into her calm state of rest, the plane shook violently, knocking her back off of her seat, this time crying out in sharp panic. Several passengers turned their attention to her as a woman voiced through the intercom again.

"Sorry, passengers! Just a little bit of turbulence, so don't ya'll worry!"

Rebecca slumped lower into her seat, face all red, officially deciding that she hadn't changed at all in the last six years.

* * *

Rebecca passed through the walkway of the large building that stood quietly in New York City. It was night, and all she could think about was the great mystery that hid inside. A crack of thunder pushed her off her feet, and in the silent darkness, she could swear she heard a wailing noise.

She continued on, about to reach the double doors in the front, only to pause again at the sound of rustling in the nearby plushy green bushes. Rebecca instinctively placed her right hand on her hip, her heart sinking at the emptiness of her grasp; she didn't have her gun. Again she proceeded, assuming it had been her imagination. But then, she knew she heard the panting of something hungry, something fast, sprinting on four powerful legs and coming for her. Just like before.

In a state of panic, Rebecca pulled at the doors, which somehow resembled the police station from Raccoon City. She let out a desperate whine as the doors failed to budge, frozen in place. She immediately turned left, not even looking back at the thing that would tear her apart. Its strong canine jaws bit into air, the snapping sound like a bear trap. She ran forward, suddenly engulfed in the greenery of a wet, dark forest. As she raced for escape against the now multiplying pursuers, a patch of fog began to suck her into a zone of nothingness. Still, she ran.

In front of her, all she could see was a mansion, one tall and deserted and alone in the forest of nostalgia. The front door was open, broken and cracked as she noticed a crashed train on fire right beside it. Before she could enter, fire began to surround her, the decaying Dobermann suddenly gone.

"W-where am I?" she asked herself, suddenly noticing a human-shaped figure jumping off the railed upper floor. He was covered in nasty slimy things; leeches.

Her heart skipping a beat, she veered right around only to run into the monstrous, towering creature from the estate, the one that had one giant clawed arm and the pulsing heart. She just stood there ready to meet her demise, when something pulled her down, and down she went into the arms of someone she knew. Every image before her froze as she locked eyes with that someone.

"Billy . . ."

BOOM.

Rebecca awoke to the complete stop of the airliner. She was disoriented, hearing several cheers from excited passengers. Looking out her window, she discovered she was at the airport in Newark. It was quite a while since she last had any of those bad dreams, the pain, suffering, and guilt she felt for not being able to do much but survive with those memories. She was about to get up and stretch (while chewing over the dream's details), when she noticed a folded piece of paper on the empty seat next to her. On top simply read "Rebecca". Eying the passengers carefully, trying not to look too conspicuous, she swiped the neatly folded note, stuffing it in her pocket in the meantime. Who on the plane would possibly know her name she couldn't tell. But she felt paranoid nonetheless at the fact that someone on board snuck that while she rested, probably as they went into the restroom or something. Who could that someone be?

_Right, Rebecca, let's just go to the stewardess and ask if you can take several swabs from the toilet for identification. Brilliant, and you call yourself a biologist._

As the last of the passengers left, a couple and their two kids, Rebecca began to think that it could've been her acquaintances from the government. But even if that was the case, why be so mysterious? And why couldn't they just call her? She had a cell phone. She figured she'd read it once off the plane, hoping not to attract any unwanted attention, for the remaining stewards and stewardesses were eyeing her worriedly. And with good reason; she was wide-eyed, like a deer caught in headlights.

She quickly stalked through the nearly empty aisle, nodding at one of the stewardesses who had been watching intently. By the time she was out, it seemed everybody along the way was staring at her. Not able to contain her curiosity any longer, she made her way into the lobby, sat in a seat nearest to where the conveyor belt was located, oblivious to her current surroundings. She fumbled out the note, in hopes for a simple explanation. She focused on the handwriting, which was quite neat and well-written.

_Rebecca Chambers,_

_We know about you and the STARS and what you all went through at the Spencer Estate. We also know about your run-in with the "enhanced" Markus and the runaway you were with. We know everything pertaining to the viral outbreak, as well as the incidents proceeding it. You played a vital role in it all, although you may object now. You've been prepped by your past ordeals. Regardless, your role here isn't done yet._

Stunned, Rebecca tried to resist an urge to look around. Not done yet? Did this have anything to do with her meeting today? Or worse, could it have something to do with the now-renegade-terrorist, Albert Wesker . . . ? Her heart was racing at that point, realizing that someone on board had been watching her, someone who knew it all. But before considering anything else, she continued reading on. Below the small note were cryptic messages listed.

_Pick room 102._

_Veronica._

_Mannequin9778._

_Beware 176._

_Beneath the iron maiden._

_Area 8, dig._

_Quick then slow._

_Right below the Funny man._

Rebecca's face became distorted with confusion, feeling like the butt of a very, very vicious joke. Had she been with Jill or Chris, she may have felt that way, but not even those pranksters would stoop that low. She was certain at that moment she was being stalked. And by the constant usage of "we", there were more than one, probably waiting for her at crucial checkpoints. However, one thing was made quite apparent. They didn't seem like their intention was to hurt her, but to warn her. Then again, she wouldn't want to take any chances. She wasn't quite fond at the idea of her dying for being too overly friendly.

With a shaky sigh, Rebecca slipped the note into her carry-on while keeping a poker face. She stood next to the belt for her things, pondering on about the note, the dream, and the unnerving correlation they may very well have.

* * *

K I N G

King had finished getting dressed after waking up to Ace's annoying loud mouth. It seemed even at the crack of dawn, he had to have his drinks. Surprisingly, King managed to get enough rest, even after all that thinking he had done. So much had gone on in the world while he was away, it seemed he was on another planet entirely.

"King," came a less rowdy voice from outside the door to his room, "are you up?"

"Yeah, come in," he replied, a resilient tone as he spoke.

"Hey, captain. Of course you're up, with that jerk yelling his lungs out." It was Queen, all dressed and ready. She had her lucky baby blue jacket with her, tied right below her bosom as always. She wore camo pants and her military-style boots all laced up; prompt as usual.

"Normally, I'd say let's skip breakfast, but we aren't gonna be coming back for awhile," she said blandly. "Could be days without anything but ramen and granola bars." King snickered tiredly.

"Well, I'm not complaining. Been through much worse."

There was a loud commotion downstairs, causing Queen to look down at the floor angrily.

"Doesn't he have any decency?"

King got off the bed he was sitting on, yawning as he followed her down onto the first floor. Ace and the others were at the lobby, chatting amongst themselves. At his arrival, he straightened up a bit.

"You're up early today, Ace. Couldn't sleep?"

"Oh, sorry, boss. You know me, moment before a big mission with big pay, gotta have my drinkie!" The mildly disgruntled captain shook his head.

"Well, better sober up soon. We're leaving."

Ace shot a look of confusion at him, placing the bottle of beer he held on the pool table just as Jack smacked a ball, hit it, and knocked its contents all over.

"Great job, dumb-ass!" Joker shouted.

"Why so early?" he asked, not paying any attention to his handiwork behind him.

"Let's go," King simply replied.

Joker smiled brightly. "Heh, guess you better call off your call girls before he gets pissed!" Ace just followed King upstairs, wondering exactly why his captain didn't want to waste any time.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked him, peeking his head into his hotel room.

"No. But last night, I received an urgent call."

"Was it her?" he asked a little quieter, entering the room as King began sorting through his bag of equipment.

"Yeah. Said we need to do this posthaste. Things seem to be getting stickier as we speak."

"Aw, man! Just when you think an espionage mission couldn't get any worse. If it's anything like the infamous Venezuela operation, count me out!"

"Don't worry," the captain replied, his tone low and set, "it'll be in and out."

"Ya' promise?" he reassured, giving him a look.

"Yeah, whatever. I promise. The only annoying part will be waiting for the 'signal'."

"Of course, another thing only you know about!"

"Well, in order for us to be qualified for the mission, I needed to accept their conditions. That was one of them."

"Stupid! What if you get shot the very second we land?"

"Then, we dump your ass off there and leave!" Joker chimed in.

"Is everyone set?" King asked him, the older man leaning at the doorway.

"Yep," Joker answered with a grin, "plus I got all our stuff checked and ready. Jack and Queen are loading the duffle bags as we speak."

"Alright then, people, let's go."

With those final words, they went downstairs, barely taking in the rather lavish hotel with its marble floors and thin, red carpets lining the pathway. Beautiful landscape paintings lined the genuine oak walls, slightly overlooked by the grand piano that glimmered in the chandelier's light. Over at a distant corner was the pool table which still reeked of liquor. Their "employers" sure took good care of them for the past three nights. It was a shame to them that they had to leave so soon. The gang gathered at the front next to where the tall double-doors were. They were to take a personalized plane to an island somewhere near South America.

"Let me see," Joker said to himself, "got the Berettas, got the clips, the vests are here, the walkie talkies. . . hey Ace, make sure these babies are in working condition."

"What, the guns?" he asked, receiving perturbed expressions from his comrades.

"Were you dropped as a child?" was Joker's reply, and for a minute, the others thought his question was a serious one.

"Can't kid around with any of you's," Ace responded, turning to one of the many paintings.

"Alright, it's show time, ladies." The group headed outside, passing several finely-groomed bushes in the shape of fancy angels. The decorations failed to match the gloomy sky, though, appearing like a storm was brewing. Hopefully, it'd be nicer on that island.

Down the tiled walkway was a black sports car waiting for them. King smirked, shaking his head all the while.

"Hey, Ten," Ace greeted, the driver lowering the passenger's window.

"Hey, guys. Need a lift?"

Ten was another of the Hell's Angels. He, too, was an adept agent, but he was always so inscrutable and hard to read. It always seemed like everything he took part in had to benefit him in some odd, creepy way. Despite the way his friends felt of him, though, he was a reliable asset to the team. Unfortunately, he had another assignment to partake in.

After putting all their things into the trunk, Ten drove off toward some forest.

"So, what do think?" he said, still wearing his black shades. Incidentally, he wore black shirts, black pants, black hats, and according to some rather loose women, black underwear.

"Pretty snazzy," Queen answered.

"I like what you did to the interior," added Joker.

" . . . Can I see the engine when we get to the spot?" Jack questioned, the others not surprised at his response. After all, Jack was also the vehicle specialist.

"We'll be there lickety-split," Ten stated. "Just make sure not to take the time to enjoy the scenery. You don't have all that much time. Should a police or someone see you guys take off, we could end up being pursued. We don't want that."

"I think I know how to handle this, thank you very much," King told him with a confident smile. "By the way, how did you come up with the money for this? Haven't you been on some 'vacation' for some time now?"

"Oh, you know I have my ways."

"So you've stooped to prostitution, huh?" Ace said smartly. "Ten a gigolo, kind of hard to imagine."

"I don't want to imagine," Joker replied, taking apart several components of his custom Glock.

"Well, you've figured out my secret, Ace. By the way, we're just about here."

Within several minutes, the car came to a halt in the middle of a spacious forest. Up over a hill was a view of the flat plains below. They left the car, lifting the bags of items they were to bring along, simultaneously admiring the view.

"Better start hiking down," Ten suggested. "Don't want to keep your ride waiting."

"You better get back to whoever you owe money to. They're not lending you a few bucks there."

"Yeah, yeah, I gotcha King. Now, get going. I'm already late for my massage."

They gave their regards to Ten and headed down the hill, King's anxieties increasing as he continued to think about the mission.

* * *

R E B E C C A

It took Rebecca a half hour to carry all her things taxi after taxi, looking for the building in which she would meet her taskmaster. Once she finally found it, she wiped sweat from her forehead and smiled. A cold breeze stirred her worn-out body, causing her to walk a bit faster. For the moment, she had cleared her head of the strange incident on the plane. When she reached the door, she paused.

"Just a dream . . ." she whispered to herself.

She marched inside the incredibly large building, just recently built to accommodate the political bodies of the government. Inside was even more amazing, the stuccoed floor and walls appearing too extravagant for a place of politics. The main lobby was easily the size of a strip mall, slightly intimidating her. She reached for her letter, the one they sent her, and came up with the note instead.

"Damn . . ." she muttered, tossing it back in when a voice startled her.

"Hey, there. You must be Rebecca Chambers." The young man smiled brightly at her, Rebecca's only reaction being an equal smile back.

"That's right. How did you know?" Her question was asked more timidly rather than suspiciously.

"After meeting all the other ladies, the only one missing seemed to be Ms. Rebecca Chambers, biochemist extraordinaire." Rebecca blushed a bit, the man taking note of this. "What were you looking for just now?"

"Er, uh, my letter with the directions to the meeting room."

"Ah, don't even worry 'bout it! I'll help you get there. I had the place scoped out earlier. Oh, how rude. By the way, the name's Nash. Nash Silverburg."

"A pleasure to meet you."

"Oh no, the pleasure's all mine." The man had a sly look to him, not necessarily the sneaky sly. More like the lady's man sly. Rebecca would surely keep a close eye on him. Moreover, though, he acted like quite the gentleman for the moment. He had blond hair slicked back, a few strands falling limply down the left side of his face. He wore a dark brown jacket and a scarf, and a simple pair of flayed jeans and sneakers; not much different from her clothes, except, sadly she looked much sloppier.

"Let me help you with your luggage," he insisted, taking the heftier briefcase. "Follow me."

They passed through the clean, well-kept halls, Rebecca marveling at the expensive decor throughout the mansion-like building. Several busts and paintings reminded her of the Spencer Estate, making the trip around a bit gloomier.

"You know, you're much prettier with that smile of yours," he disrupted her musing. "Why the frown?"

"Oh, nothing," she responded, forcing a smile, "just a little nervous."

"There's nothing for you to be nervous about. They're just going to make use of your amazing talent."

"Can I ask you a question?" she cut him off.

"Sure. Anything."

"Are you one of the people called upon by the President, too?"

"Hmm, you guessed right. I'm possibly the best microbiologist in all of California. They also wanted my help."

"You came all the way out here? Well, I guess if the President asked you to . . ."

The pair reached the room seconds after, the door itself more expensive than many of the decorations. He opened the door for her, Rebecca entering a room that appeared like some leisure room for bigwigs to hang and relax.

"Wow! These people sure know how to choose a room," she blurted.

"Ah, I see the last of the guests have arrived," came a voice among the people already there. Besides Nash and her, he was the only one standing; the others were seated at a long table alongside a row of windows. He was an older man, at least in his early fifties, dressed in a suit like the stereotypical politician. "I am Cecil, the representative for the President. Care to start, now? Go ahead and take a seat, there's no rush."

As she sat down in the plushy red chair, Nash sitting next to her, she noticed the four others sitting around. There was an attractive blond lady dressed in a red miniskirt. Her expressions and gestures made her seem a bit full of herself, though. And the choker she wore with a diamond adorned at its center proved testament to her wealth. Next to her was a young-looking Caucasian man with telling eyes, his straight, brown hair brushed to the side and covering his entire forehead. He seemed nice; he was the only one to greet her, even if just with a smile. The other two sat on the other far end, one a dark-skinned woman who appeared very smart and professional and the other, a dark-haired man probably in his mid thirties or early forties, his glasses adding to his sophisticated appearance.

"As you all know," began Cecil, "you've all been summoned here to do us, the American people, and the world an incredible favor. On an island off the coast of South America, we have a lab where we come up with top-secret prototype cures for various rare and exotic diseases, most untested. Although barely as productive as we previously thought, now is a time where we must begin using that base so we can finally find answers. Of course, your roles will just be a temporary solution to the bigger problem at hand. There have been high-leveled threats as of late regarding biological warfare, as you all, masters of your professions, probably have already been aware of. Intelligence suggests the source of the sudden rise, namely the perp dealing the bioweapons worldwide, is an insider on our own front. Supposedly, a man with a prior history of overwhelming resentment to the US government, and its decision to . . . well, those details don't really make much of a difference on what it is you all are going to embark on. We need you all to cooperate and find us a way to counteract his ploy, even in the least possible way. As long as his weapon providers continue to expand, many innocent lives will be in jeopardy, now especially in the homeland. We are looking into any way to create vaccines and serums for possible future attacks, but it is nearly impossible without an actual understanding of what it is this calculating man plans to use."

"So," the pretty girl broke in, "you want us to come up with some miracle drug for every occasion? I don't quite understand what it is you're asking us to do."

"Ah, Elaine, is it?" he continued. "This is just an overview briefing on the situation at hand. Our country is actually in great peril, but instead of panicking the people of the U.S., we've decided to take our best scientists and the country's very finest to answer the call to stop this impending threat. Team Axis, the military team, will be tasked to hunt down this mysterious dealer and his providers. Team Atlas, that's you guys, will be doing assisted laboratory work with a particular bioweapon. You're one of several different subgroups on Team Atlas, however, your mission is the direst; fighting a bug nicknamed the 'warper', a nasty little thing. As you know, I'm just a spokesperson, not a scientist. So when you get there, they'll fill you in on the finer details. Any other questions?"

"Just how long will we be staying there, for curiosity's sake?" asked the man with the glasses. "Not to sound vain, but my passion lies with _animal_ behavior, which by the way I'm overdue on a video project detailing the survival rate of-,"

"As long as it takes to come up with a solution. Don't worry, we'll take the liberty to attending to your every needs, whatever they may be." His light, unfeeling eyes met Rebecca's, making her feel uneasy. "Is everything alright, Ms. Chambers? You are all entitled to decline the offer; this isn't a draft or anything. But we could use the incredible knowledge of the creator of the T-cure."

The others' attention turned to her all of the sudden, their eyes wide with amazement. Rebecca began to blush again, still not so used to getting such attention from others. Nash gave her a shocked look, shaking his head.

"Pleasant personality, great looks, brains; you never cease to amuse me, Rebecca," he quietly said.

"Shut up," she whispered. "Of course, I wasn't even thinking about that. Just a bit . . . anxious."

"Yes, I would imagine," Cecil said. He lowered his head slightly. "It appears that this project is vital to the protection of our people. However, don't think that you all are in this alone. We, the authorities of America, are also trying our best to come up with clues, plans, anything that would help us track down the perpetrators of a recent attack kept under wraps. Your private plane shall arrive in several more hours, so until then, help yourselves to anything and any place in this building. I'll be in my office on the tenth floor if there's anything you need. I shall take my leave, now, while you all take the time to get acquainted."

With that, he walked out of the nicely furnished room, leaving the scientists to themselves.


	3. Chapter 3

-CHAPTER 3-

Rebecca breezed nonchalantly down the luxurious halls of the political center, wondering what her ex-STARS friends were up to. Last she remembered, she had spent a weekend with Chris and Claire. Jill was visiting her father somewhere in Pennsylvania, and Barry was on a vacation with the family at the time. That was almost a year ago. She thought about the fun they had, Chris teasing Claire, and the fiery biker chick with her own wise cracks. She felt like she was really part of the family. Of course, she had her own family to worry about, but recently, she seemed to have very little open time. When she entered the main hall, she stopped and smiled as she saw Nash leaning against a giant statue of a soldier, grinning all the while.

"So, not much of a 'in the spotlight' gal, huh?" he shot at her, crossing his arms.

"Nah, more like a 'behind the scenes' person, but somehow I wound up playing both."

"Well, you technically are a hero, you know." Rebecca shook her head in what appeared like mild amusement.

"There you go again, flattering me not once, or twice, but thrice!"

"Oh, please! Don't tell me you don't like all that 'oh, Rebecca Chambers? My God, what a woman, what a sex symbol!'"

"W-What did you say!" Nash chuckled silently, his shoulders bobbing as he did so. Although she wanted to act as annoyed as she felt, she couldn't help a smile slip by.

"You really are a strange one, Mr. Silverburg," she said amiably.

"Yeah, well, for once I would like to be the one everyone talks about. I mean, sheesh, why always you? Oh, yeah, it's because you're hot. That must be it."

Rebecca put her one free hand on her chin, grinning deviously. "Wow, I sure feel sorry for all the decent, not-so-slutty ladies you've flirted with. Well, then again, that accounts to just one-tenth of the ladies, of course."

"Ouch, what a low blow," he said in response, clutching his chest as though she had punched him.

Rebecca sat down on a beautiful couch, completely plushy and comfortable as if it had just been bought- and not a tiny streak of dust or dirt. A couple of seats down was Dolph, the nice man from the meeting. He was reading some paper-back novel, his expression lax.

"You're . . . Dolph, correct?" she said to him, strolling casually toward him and away from Nash.

"Yes. And you are Rebecca."

"Yeah. Sorry if I disrupted your reading. I was just wondering what field you specialized in. We didn't get to speak much at the seminar."

Dolph smiled, his brilliant features crying out "genius" for some odd reason. He seemed average, maybe that was why. Regardless, he had attributes quite similar to hers; brown, short hair(although in his case, more unruly), hazel eyes, and finely chiseled facial features. He almost resembled a sixteen-year-old. And regrettably, just like her, too.

"I'm a chemist, like yourself, only I enjoy all aspects of the field. Bio, Earth, marine, you name it."

"Wow, that's much more than I can say for myself," Rebecca said, her eyes widening slightly.

"You think that? Aren't you the one who created the famous 'T-cure'?" He smiled, a confident one that showed much tacit modesty. He was much more mature than Nash, that was for sure.

"I just wanted to do it. Ever since . . ."

She paused suddenly, sighing inwardly as she saw the confusion on Dolph's face.

"Ever since . . . ?"

"Nothing, never mind. I'd rather not talk about it." With that Rebecca stood up and nodded at him. "It was good talking to you, Dolph. Hopefully we'll have more chances when we reach that island, uh . . ."

"Celesta Island?" he finished for her, wearing an entertained grin.

"Yeah, that's it! I'll see you there."

Rebecca headed off outside, running into Nash again.

"What's up with that? Am I not interesting anymore?" He still had that frivolous look on his youthful face. Rebecca just couldn't dislike him, for whatever the reason.

"Fine, I'll sit next to you on the plane," she said, sounding reluctant yet in a playful tone. "I know that's what you're bugging me for, right?"

"We have a deal," he said, as he shook her hand roughly.

*

K I N G

Their plane had just taken off, the mercenaries barely nervous at all. This wasn't the first time they did this sort of stuff. There was the predicament in Venezuela where they had to save several captive civilians from local terrorists, only to find out all the civilians were also in on it as an attempt to overrun the government through some fear tactic. Needless to say, when they interfered in their plans, things got ugly. If that wasn't a disaster, there was also the mess at the Bronx and the hostage crisis gone awry in LA. Whatever the mission, the Hell's Angels were usually on top of it. Plus, they were conveniently hired under the books, away from the law and away from the media.

King was lost in thought, just about done with his futile attempt to catch some shuteye. Surprisingly, they were all quiet. Ace was conked out from his drinking, Jack was staring out the window thinking of who-knew-what, and Queen was speaking to Joker in a low tone.

"Hmm, take a look at this," she told Joker, both of them leaning in to scan the newspaper that was in her hand.

"Ah, so, Latoya Jackson got another plastic surgery done," he replied, nodding his head in amazement. "You figured she was fake enough."

"No, not that, this!" she pointed out to him. "And while you're reading it, give me that article. I have got to she what Ms. Jackson did to herself this time."

"Oh, yeah, I've heard of this," Joker said after several seconds. "They say the death toll was way over that of Raccoon City's." King shot a look back at the two, curious after they mentioned the old zombie city.

"What's that?"

"It's an article on B.O.W. happenings in Europe as of late," Queen replied.

"That's right, not only were there a series of many explosions and mutated bodies reported from somewhere in the wilderness of Spain, but there also seemed to be some kind of spill throughout major parts of Romania, a kind of ancient B.O.W. Rumors have it vampiric cultists had spread the odd plague. Thousands of innocents were devoured by the bloodsuckers."

"How horrible . . ." Queen said, covering her mouth.

"Well, can't say I'm surprised," King shot back.

"How can you say it doesn't surprise you?" Queen questioned. "Sure, after Raccoon it seemed anything was believable, but it's starting to appear like this stuff's spreading worldwide!"

"It just doesn't shock me as much as it does to you. I guess you can say I had my share of experience." The other two glanced at each other in wonderment. Even Jack stuck out his head from behind to listen in.

"Are you saying you had some part in all that, to the thousands who died?" Queen asked, her eyes glimmering with amazement.

"Raccoon City, the city Umbrella turned into a live graveyard filled with zombies," Jack added.

"Huh?" Joker turned to him. "What do you mean? I heard there was a leak of some sort, like a virus or something. But zombies?"

Jack just shut his eyes, looking solemn. Meanwhile, King shifted back to face the front of the plane.

"Captain, please tell us more! We want to know more about you. We are friends, right? You might as well go ahead."

"Our pasts are irrelevant, remember?" was his response. And Queen just sighed, looking disappointed.

"Aw, you can't just tell us that and leave us hanging, boss!" came a voice from behind the seats. Apparently, Ace woke up on time to hear their conversation.

". . ."

"I think everyone's interested in hearing what you have to say, captain," Joker suggested, "look, even Jack came out from his shell."

"All I'll say is this. Ever since the incident, I've been against Umbrella, hated everything about them among other reasons. The island we're heading off to used to be one of Umbrella's, and even now, I believe Umbrella's influence is still smudged all over it. This mission we're on could save more lives from the fate those people were forced to have."

"Wow, boss, never knew you were the heroic type," Ace blurted.

"Are you saying we're going to spy on Umbrella, the company that supposedly fell several years ago?" Queen reassured more than she asked.

"I've said enough."

With that, King closed his eyes, trying to rest. He knew that this was in his best interest and that company's. He just hoped he never had to witness any of the things that went on there.

Several hours must have gone by; King was awake after finally taking a nap. There stood the copilot, clapping his hands to get their attention.

"Alright, we're to drop you guys off via parachute."

"Parachute!" Queen shouted, revealing her fear of heights.

"Sure, parachute. That's what I said. Don't worry, just as long as you pull the cord, you should all land relatively where you have to. If not, you'll just have to make due in the deep blue sea."

"This is insane! I thought we'd land and . . ." Queen's words began to fade as she noticed the wide smile forming on the copilot's face.

"Rick and I would never do that to you guys. Don't worry, we'll land you near a safe coast, where you will all make a dramatic, James Bond type of entrance, right?"

"Fucking bastard," Queen whispered acidly.

Ace just chuckled and shook his head. "Jacob, you always were the better prankster."

"Alright, everybody hold on tight," shouted Rick, the pilot, from his seat. The plane made a sharp turn and was sloping downward. By the time it reached the shore, the plane hit a stop, splashing water every which way. The others were all thrown about, struggling to maintain their balance again.

"You know, it wouldn't hurt to be a little more delicate," Joker stated, receiving a hardy laugh from Jacob.

"Good luck to all of you's," he said. "We need to make a pit stop to some city in Columbia. You know, fuel, coffee . . . chicks."

"Ha, have fun!" Ace said in a bucked up tone. "We'll be here waiting for our 'signal'."

"Alright, so get on outta here."

After hauling their gear, the team assembled sort of a camp near some woods close to the shore. The ocean was an invigorating sight from over there, lulling the group into a relaxed stance.

"What a scene," Jack mumbled to himself.

"Hey, Jack," came a voice. It was Ace, who also was enjoying the view. The sky wasn't cloudless, but it was still breathtaking. "Can I ask you a question? A kinda personal one?"

"Sure," he replied in his usual mild-mannered tone, "but don't expect an answer." Jack never enjoyed speaking about his past, not like he spoke much at all. Even so, the others would take shots anyway.

"I know you had something to do with what happened back then. Did you have to face them . . . you know, the 'zombies'?"

"Hmm," he contemplated, unknown whether or not it was about his question.

"Come on, man. What if we don't end up walking away from this mission? King said it had to do with Umbrella. This is the perfect time to let a good ol' friend know what's troubling you."

"Raccoon City . . . I used to live there."

". . . and? Were you there when the spill occurred?"

"Worse. I was there when my parents and siblings were eaten alive by the zombies. I found out Umbrella was behind it all. And I escaped, having to live with it for the rest of my life. A far worse punishment than those who died." As he said those words, he barely even faltered. He simply shut his eyes in reverence to the deaths he'd seen, then simply walked off, almost as if relieved and disturbed at the same time. Ace just looked back at him, wondering just how twisted that Umbrella company was to let something like that happen.

Meanwhile, King sat on a stump, staring at his PDA. Ace, seeming surprisingly soft-spoken, walked up to him.

"Hey, boss," he began, "you sure this is a good idea? I mean, I'm not that good of a hero and stuff. I'm just a drunk who loves his dirty job! I'm not cut out for . . . zombies!"

"Nonsense," Joker joined in. "Zombies? Maybe at Raccoon, but I highly doubt they'd repeat another one of those experiments, especially if they're in hiding."

"You're right," King added, his eyes still trained on the device he held. "The experiments would be far worse. But we're not even positive. That's what we're here to find out."

"Ah, so it will be 'in and out', like you said," Ace said with much relief, receiving a slanted brow from Joker.

"I thought your type of missions were the daredevil types, Ace. You're getting old on me, buddy."

"If anyone's getting older around here it's you, you dragon!" Ace shouted back.

The PDA began to ring, everyone's heads turning immediately to King. "It's time," he said, with a somber tone.

R E B E C C A

The island was quite a wonder. They landed in a hangar that closely resembled a military one; Rebecca had known that by the photo shots Chris showed her from when he was in the Air force. However, when they flew over the outlands of the island, she was stunned by the raw beauty still conserved on it. Strangely, it almost seemed as if the nature surrounding the militaristic base was used to conceal the place. Thinking it over a second time, it probably was.

Several rather stiff-looking people waited for them to arrive, taking all their luggage and handing them each a copy of the key to their rooms. When she received a key with the tag reading "108", she suddenly froze, remembering the arcane note she found.

Room 102 . . . that's what it said.

Without even her noticing, she was biting her lower lip, her thoughts racing as to how she should react. She took notice that Elaine Merces, the rich woman from the meeting, had the key with the tag "102". She didn't know whether to trust the note, or deem it dangerous.

"Everything okay?" asked Nash, a bit more worried-looking. "You seem very tense."

"Oh, I'm fine, thanks."

She walked along with him, the thought burning in her mind.

"Which room number did you receive?" he asked her, acting all excited like a child would.

"Um, 108, I believe," she replied, taking a look at his. It had the number "104" on its tag.

"Aw, shucks. Mine is in the first construct."

"First construct?"

"Yeah, didn't you hear the stewardess talk about it onboard the plane ride?"

"Plane rides aren't exactly where my strong points lie. I must've been drugged up on sleeping pills."

"Well, anyways, to make things short and sweet, each construct goes by intervals of five. So rooms 101 through 105 are in the first construct. Then, the next five are in the second construct and so on. There are three in all, and now, alas, we're separated!"

"Oh, stop being such a pansy," she said with a smile. "Here's an idea. Why don't you ask Elaine to switch keys with this one." Rebecca gave him her key, Nash taking it with mild interest.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're coming on to me," he said, apparently happy. She sighed deeply, hoping that what she was doing wasn't a great mistake. He came back, Elaine's key in his hands.

"Ha, I had the right charm to talk her into it."

"I highly doubt that, but if it makes you feel better."

They both exchanged evenly pleasant looks, a brief silence creating an awkward moment for them.

"Hey! How's about after we pack, we go check out this island? Hopefully they have a bar we can hang out at before all the annoying work and all."

"That sounds like fun, but seriously, are you really a scientist?"

Nash's toothy grin appeared again, most likely enjoying the teasing. "Of course! I will demonstrate this fact to you when we get to work."

"Ugh, let's just go."

They followed the others out of the hangar and into an enormous elevator probably meant for transporting crates and other packages from floor to floor. They went two levels higher, the monstrous elevator opening outside. The group of scientists, led by the security officers, veered around to their right, going through a nearly-hidden door. The metallic entry squealed open, the thing probably old as hell . . .

They continued walking some more, heading left, down a metal catwalk with stairs bringing them further down the lower levels.

"Gee, they never warned us about this," Nash said jokingly. "What an outrage!"

"I'll say," said Fred, the man with the glasses, who actually took what he said seriously. He wasn't badly built, but he wasn't exactly fit either. He was around his late thirties.

"Quit your whining. I overheard we may actually get paid handsomely for this once we're through," said Tara, the dark-skinned woman from before. She always seemed like she had some attitude issues, yet, Rebecca found her to be quite a nice lady after some talking. Dolph was the only one who didn't say a word yet since landing.

They all crossed an enormous bridge, one that stood above a very steep cliff. A light fog down the cliff indicated that they were pretty high in altitude. At their position at that very point, they could see the surrounding area fairly well. They were standing on a stone pathway instead of the bare soil from before; at least they didn't treat the residences as a military base. There were plants and trees here and there, planted intentionally but for unknown reasons, probably for decoration. Rebecca also thought it unusual that a huge metal double door with a rusted eagle insignia separated the residence from the rest.

Through a smaller gate, they reached the residence for the visitors who came to the island. One of the soldiers paused, standing in front of them.

"You may unpack your belongings, now. Find the construct and room, and settle in if you wish. You may navigate through the residential area, _not _anywhere else. Security is on duty 24/7. After dawn, you shall all receive a briefing."

The rest of the soldiers followed the other out of the visitors' quarters, leaving them on their own. The area was pretty impressive. They could see the three rather average-sized constructs where their rooms would be, each no bigger than an average suburban home. They all went their separate ways, looking for their rooms.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Let's get going."

Nash's enthusiasm was somehow not helping at the moment. Feelings of regret and nausea began to tear at Rebecca's insides after too much rethinking.

_Oh, come on! It's not like there's gonna be some serial killer in there waiting for me. Suck it up and just go . . ._

Given her limited options, she took a deep breath and prepared to enter room 102.


	4. Chapter 4

-CHAPTER 4-

The rusty, steel door slammed shut, startling the diligent man in a brown trench coat. Two men in white coats waltzed in, gasping as if on a ten-mile jog. The man in the trench coat spun his chair around to meet their exhausted faces.

"What happened?" he let out softly, his deep voice not sounding as intimidating as he looked. No answer from the shocked men in white. From his seat, he noticed the one leaning against the door was heavily wounded, bleeding in two places, his forearm and thigh.

"What is the status!" he shouted this time, forcing the untouched man to snap out of his shock.

". . . T-virus, someone must have spilt it . . ."

"Damn," said the man in trench coat. "How bad is it? Has it spread to each compound?"

"We've yet to figure that out, but we do know that the power to most areas here are out, probably trashed by the carriers." His words were as distorted as his face was, filled with a dread that would regrettably last for a while.

"Just great. But how could they have . . . we would have noticed if they fell victim to the virus. Was it an airborne?"

"Um . . . that isn't all we should worry about," the uninjured man said, barely maintaining composure. "Being the control room, if those carriers get a hold of the power to the others' cells . . . and there's the problem with the NP-virus. . ."

"What! Don't tell me it was released!"

"NO . . . ! It's just a prototype. Had it been released, who knew what would have happened. All I know is that none of us would be standing here right now."

The trench coat man stood up from his chair, his eye trained on the man behind him, silent and pale with fear. He wasn't even concentrating on their conversation. The man took out his gun, a Desert Eagle magnum, and aimed it at the man who he was just speaking to, stirring him even more than he already was.

"W-wait! Don't shoot . . ."

"Move!"

Out of fear and panic, the man shifted, his back smacking into one of the gray walls in the computer room. To his horror, he noticed just who he was aiming at; the other survivor. The other man in white saw the gun directed at him, knew that his superior was going to surely kill him because of the bites he received. He simply closed his eyes and accepted his grim fate. In another second, the magnum went off, leaving a headless body to slump onto the floor. Dark, thin blood leaked onto the cold floor, near the other man. He could only stare in revulsion and pity at the man he had known just a little while ago.

"How did you know he was infected?" asked the last man in white, feeling like he committed an injustice. "He didn't show the symptoms! And we could've given him the antidote in medical bay!"

"Please, don't be so ignorant, Hugo," said the man, holstering his magnum. "You know, for a scientist of your caliber, you sure have a horrible memory. We all took our vaccines for the T-virus, correct? What you just saw wasn't just the T-virus we know."

"But, maybe the vaccines just didn't have a long expiration time, or maybe the capacity of the leak was too great, the infection overtook them."

"And maybe you're a _dumbass_," the man shot back. "Somebody tampered with our stuff. In fact, I'll bet you our traitor is still on the island."

". . ."

"Well, no sense in telling the others. May ruin the visitors' stay. As much as I hate to say it, we need those maggots." He shut his eyes and lowered his head, searching his thoughts for something he needed to say. "The agents. What happened to the agents that we to be brought here?"

"All them were dead by the time we left the storage room. We were hiding, waiting for them . . ."

"Damn it! Well, that's what they get for using uninfected, normal scientists. Now we need to worry about damn traitors! Guess it's up to me, now."

Hugo looked down, seeming unnerved. Sweat was trickling down from his dark brown hair and falling onto his youthful face.

"Still jarred by what happened? Oh, brother! Maybe they should've made you all full-blown infected zombies, like the workers. You're lucky they need your intellect."

The man took off, heading in an opposite door Hugo came from.

"H-hey, wait! You're just going to leave? There are probably others down there who're still alive!"

"Then you go and rescue them," he said coldly, tossing him the magnum. "Six rounds left. See what good you can do us now."

With those final words, he was left alone, alone with Aden's body. Alone in a lab he regretted ever setting eyes on.

R E B E C C A

The door creaked open, the old wooden frame worn out from constant use. Nash held it for Rebecca to pass, the expression on her face hiding her true fear. After a few minutes of pondering on the matter, she figured it had to be someone from the government doing this little ploy. She thought about what one would want from someone such as her. Whatever the case, it had to involve the infamous Mansion Incident, which in part meant that it was related to either Umbrella or the T-cure she worked so hard to create. But how would they know about the vaccine? Only the government and people she trusted knew about it.

"Come on, loosen up. This won't be too hard!"

Nash's words had no correlation. If only she could tell him, it would make her feel safer, but who knew exactly who was up to this. She didn't want to make a horrible mistake.

"Alright, I will! But could you walk me to my room? I know it sounds stupid, but I'm paranoid about things like that." Although the circumstances seemed strange, that would make things a bit safer for her. He shrugged, wearing his delighted smile again.

"Well, okay. I guess every genius has their quirks."

The interior was all wood, almost like a cabin. It kind of reminded her when she went camping a while back with the others. It also brought back nasty memories of the eerie rooms of the residence in the Arklay Mountains, making her heart beat even faster. The two stood in a hallway going straight down, lit by three lamps above. The hall branched out through other smaller halls, two on the left and two on the right, which were where their rooms would be. On the wall was a poster reading, "Welcome! All even-numbered rooms are to your left and all odd-numbered rooms are to your right." Among other things were the schedules for room service etc. It almost felt like she was staying at a motel.

Rebecca's room was the first even-numbered room, so they headed to their first left, the hall turning to face a newly replaced window straight ahead and a door to the left. The room plate read "102". Rebecca paused at the door, taking in a glimpse of the wavering trees as night began to slowly pour over the land.

"I suppose I should be going back to my room," Nash stated, turning back into the main hall.

"Don't you know anything about being a gentleman? You're suppose to wait _outside_ the door, until I get in safely."

"Ugh, you ladies," he said, seeming to enjoy it. He waited for Rebecca to unlock the door, the clicking sound very soft. The door squeaked open, revealing a cozy-looking motel-like room, nothing more.

"All better?" he told her, leaning in the doorway.

"Yeah," she replied. She turned to him, still looking uneasy, but not finding the words.

"What's wrong?"

" . . . nothing." Rebecca put her hand on the knob, giving him a warm-hearted smile. "Thanks, Nash. You've been more than a gentleman to me."

"Anytime, beautiful. And hey! Don't forget, my place after you pack."

"This isn't any date!" she scolded him, her face slightly blushing.

"I didn't say it was, did I?" his voice sounding teasingly.

"Then stop making it sound like one. We're just going to explore around a bit."

"I don't know about you, but I know what _I'm _exploring!"

"Oh, just go away," she smiled to him, closing the door.

Her smile faded as she took a deep breath. Feeling more relaxed, she surveyed the room, taking note of everything. Her bed was at the upper left-hand corner, the bed appearing untouched. To her immediate right was a dresser, a rose vase placed for decoration. Another dresser was beside the bed to her right with a simple lamp standing on top of it. Upon closer examination, there was a book on the table entitled "How to Relax in Our Hectic World." To the left of the doorway was a bookshelf filled with various novels and books based on different sciences, which she knew would interest her.

Rebecca sat on the edge of her bed, letting her things drop to the ground. Straight across from her was the window again, this time noting the trees tossing and turning side to side. With winds like that, it was most likely going to pour.

_Well, so much for the mysterious note._

It was still too early to assume anything, but the room was pretty fine from what she could see. She took out the note again, rereading every message carefully. "Mannequin9778," "below the funny man," what could the messages possibly mean? Whoever the person was, he or she must've been on crack while writing it. However, the note preceding those "warnings" were very accurate. They knew her for sure.

Rebecca knelt down on the small carpet that lay in the middle of the room, unpacking her things. Besides clothes, there were notebooks with various memos from when she was studying in the university. There were also two textbooks involving biochemistry and two more novels, although with the collection provided, she probably wouldn't need them. She had her personal items, such as her toothbrush and shampoo, in a separate bag. She felt something press against her jeans and took out her cell, suddenly remembering that her friends and family had planned on messaging her. She dialed the "voice mail" button, but static filled the phone instead. Rebecca looked at the main LCD, seeing the words "connection lost" on it. She shrugged and tossed it aside for the time being.

She walked over next to the larger dresser across the room and noticed the door, where the bathroom would be, right on the wall next to the entrance door's. Overall, the room was quite comfortable.

She opened the dresser's double doors and on the top shelf saw a gun, the sight of it making her feel weak. She shut the dresser after a moment, not knowing what to do first.

_Crap, the note!_

She didn't know why the mystery person did it, or what they intended for her to use it for. She didn't want to know. Rebecca put a hand on her forehead and walked to the door and locked it, the bolt securely turned. Her attention then turned to the dresser, the gun sitting in plain sight. She picked it up, the Browning HP's weight seeming too much for her drained body to handle. It was also quite loaded, all thirteen bullets in the clip it held. Not only that, the safety was off, too. It gave her a bad feeling in the pit of her gut, making her feel ironically unsafe.

Rebecca searched the drawers down on the lowest segment of the dresser and uncovered yet another clip, and beneath that a note. It simply read, "We knew you'd trust us." The note should have made her body less tense, but instead her paranoia and doubts began to rise. A booming thunderbolt shook the tiny cabin, startling Rebecca as she glanced out the window. The dark sky finally released the rain it held on to for awhile, the rain falling suddenly and rapidly. She went to close the shades, knowing she'd feel a little better if she did-

-and something caught her attention. At first, there was nothing but trees, the small forest nearby barely letting the sky into view. But something moved. She had to get in a bit closer to notice, but there was definitely movement. Could it be a soldier? By why so close to the residence?

The fright she felt was slightly mixed with curiosity as she struggled to see through the rain. Something moved again, and that time, she saw the figure of someone, or something limping, no, waddling in the underbrush of the forest. She only caught a glimpse of a brownish leathery outside as her eyes tensed more. The figure was only several feet away at that point. Although it was hard to tell which direction it was going, it was obvious the figure was getting closer. A nearby tree got in the way, blocking her view.

_What the hell is that thing? It isn't human is it? Must be some harmless injured animal or something, maybe a deer._

She knew very well that it wasn't any deer or anything. She couldn't rationalize. Determined, she continued to look-

-and the thing stood only a few feet away, wide human-like eyes gleaming in her direction. Rebecca flinched, gasping as she did, her eyes still on it. Unable to keep her sight off of it, she saw it, hunched-back-looking and its face utterly distorted; an enigmatic mess. Its bulging eyes remained on her, studying her as its crooked mouth opened and closed involuntarily. Rain or saliva, she couldn't tell, began to drip from its deformed chin, the thing slowly edging its way toward her window.

Rebecca's body entered a state of panic, her eyes still trying to take in the battered, bloody body and misshapen features, but her mind struggled to just get away. She backed up slowly, her hands shaking, and did the only thing that came naturally to her. She put up her gun, aiming at the advancing creature, and it stopped dead in its tracks.

The thing let out a rough guttural cry and ran maladroitly into the woods. Rebecca was breathing hard, the image of the mutant still fresh in her mind. She lowered the gun, glad she didn't have to use it. It would've been hard to explain to the authorities why and how she had a gun on her. She sat on her bed, shivering at the next thought that came to mind.

_Zombie, a goddamn zombie._

It wasn't exactly like one, but it was the first thing that came to mind when she gazed at the monster. Could she have been hallucinating? Rebecca's mind raced as if to figure out how it could connect to the island, the government, the mystery men, and the people who came with her. It all didn't make sense . . . except the gun. Those "benefactors" give her a gun, she sees something potentially dangerous, and somehow she is saved. There was a tinge of conspiracy welling up, she thought.

She took one last deep breath before deciding not to dwell so much. Her mind cleared, Rebecca decided she'd go meet up with Nash. She had plan brewing that involved her little walk with him.

K I N G

It took them until nightfall to finally hike up into the inland. Between the forest and hills of rocks, it wasn't easy. King hoped that when they gave them the signal, they took all this hiking into account.

When they finally reached high enough to see down below, they all paused.

"Lucky for us there was this mountain trail," Joker sighed.

"You mean lucky for you, old timer," Ace said with a big grin.

"Shut your trap. If I wasn't so damn tired, I'd smack you."

"Come on, guys, hurry," Queen scolded them, waiting at the top alongside King and Jack.

The path continued down this time, allowing the group a vague glimpse of the base below. Four major complexes could be seen from their position, and further out were two tall buildings, one obviously a mansion.

"I just felt a drop of rain," Queen said miserably, "we better hurry it up. I, for one, do not wish to get drenched."

"I told you we shouldn't bring women with us on missions," Ace joked.

"Hey, if you can suffice with a complete moron, I guess a gal wouldn't hurt." Ace shot a smile at her and Queen responded back in kind. They advanced down the rocky path, the rain worsening with a strike of lightning preceding thunder here and there. Each bolt illuminated their path a bit, unveiling forested areas on each side. It made the path look narrow, putting them all on high alert.

"What is this, a typhoon?" Ace questioned.

"No, a hurricane," Joker corrected, "typhoons are in the Pacific."

"Oh, I knew that."

The gang pressed on, weapons in hand. Jack had his usual bow gun, which he was extremely talented with. Joker had a rifle, although he enjoyed the occasional handgun. The other three had the standard-issue Berettas, although Ace also brought twin knives for his preferred hand-to-hand combat. Miniature waterfalls were forming from craggy cliffs above, the splashing of water drowning out all other sounds. They kept on descending until all that was visible were ragged rocks, tall trees, and the darkened sky.

Eventually, they viewed a giant building, appearing like a factory from the outside. Huge industrial double doors barred access as King, the first to reach it, attempted to pull. Next to it was a closed panel, probably where one entered the code. He lifted the cover, the numbered buttons glowing red. He entered a code which in turn released the lock.

"How do you think they knew?" Ace asked King.

"Knew what?"

"The code."

"I suppose they have their ways," he responded.

They went inside, taking in a dim hallway with two caged sides next to them. On the mesh-like cages were locks, guarding some security systems of sorts. They all followed King, who was unusually silent. He opened the next steel-enforced door, the air within quite frigid. It opened into a tightened, much brighter hallway with gray-colored walls. Doors covered the hall left and right, confounding the team.

"Alright," King began, "our goal is to find any concrete evidence to take back with us. Documents and Umbrella logos are fine, but disks of any kind are even better. There shouldn't be much security since this lab was supposed to be well hidden. Even the path we took was concealed where no one, not even from a plane, could spot it."

"Is that what our intelligence told you?" Queen asked quizzically.

"Right."

"Then all we do is that, huh?"

"Right again."

"Let's just get it over with already," Ace whined.

"Alright, but don't forget about security cameras, too. I've heard they also had ones that move about, like robots."

"That's freaky," Joker added. Jack remained quiet as usual.

"Okay, so does splitting up sound like a good idea, or should we group up?" King asked.

"Well, we can't leave Ace by himself," Joker said, smirking in his direction.

"Yeah, you're right," Queen said. "I'll take the burden, I suppose."

"Hey, you should be honored!" Ace spat.

"I guess I'll go with the boss," Joker said. "I'll assume Jack wants in by himself."

"Mmm hmm," Jack nodded. He excelled at sneaking and other espionage missions much better alone. Because he takes actions abruptly and silently, one would loose track of him easily.

"Fine. So Joker and I will check out this entire basement hall. Queen and Ace will head over to the end of the hall and check out the first floor. And Jack, because I know how talented you are at it, you can take _that_." King pointed to the ventilation shaft above. "Try and observe as much as you can and use the radios to communicate. If we don't answer, we're either preoccupied or near a room with others. All of you remember that as well. And don't forget what I said about the cameras."

They all nodded in agreement, looking more serious and psyched for the assignment. Where they'd get plunged in they didn't know.


	5. Chapter 5

-CHAPTER 5-

The wooden door reading "104" opened slowly, an eager-looking Nash waving an arm for entry. Rebecca forced a smile, feeling sort of awkward. The pleasant atmosphere he generated just wouldn't cloud the raw distress she held in among her thoughts. It was as if she wanted to enjoy his company but knew there were other "duties" to attend to. Ever since getting involve with Umbrella and the virus, she felt almost obligated to do as much as she possibly could for the future of the world.

_Well, as they say, 'business before pleasure'. . ._

Feeling even more uneasy, Rebecca stepped inside, getting straight to the point . . . well, sort of.

"Nash, there's something . . ."

_. . . I wanted to discuss with you, _Rebecca finished mentally, knowing Nash would just act all goofy and counter it. After pausing briefly, she chose her words carefully and commenced.

" . . . you should be aware of."

Surprisingly enough, he was silent, bearing an amused look on his face.

"I . . . received a strange note earlier, a note that mentioned personal incidents of mine only a handful of trusted people and I would know. Ever since, I had problems trusting people, but it seems the one who sent it wanted to protect me." She lifted her t-shirt and showed him the butt of the gun, making his facial expression morph into a more grave one.

"But, still, I trust you. Please don't mention this to anyone." Nash nodded, forcing a smile himself.

"Of course I won't," he proclaimed. "But, I have to know. What was it these weird people spoke of? What scared you? Did they use blackmail or something?"

"Well," Rebecca began, giving a long pause as she turned away from him, "remember how Cecil mentioned me being involved with the T-virus?" Nash took a step closer to Rebecca, her hands folded behind her back.

"Yeah."

"How do you think I first came across it?"

"Um, you got me."

"Use your brain, Nash. The T-virus turned everything it touched into violent, flesh-craving maniacs. The branch of STARS was involved in the murders six years ago. And ever since, I became interested, despite my fear, my sorrow, my loss . . . my dignity. I was determined to stop it from hurting anyone, no matter the risk."

" . . ."

At that point, she thought he understood. The emotions welled up within her, the ones she suppressed for so long, making her want to escape its wrath. However, she remained and held stronger. She closed her eyes tightly, fighting back tears that probably wouldn't fall anyway from constant use.

"I was there when it was taking lives. That's the big detail they mentioned in the note." She turned around, still rubbing at her teary eyes. Yet, she let not a single one touch her cheeks.

"Rebecca . . ."

Nash hesitated, not knowing whether to go forth and comfort her or leave her be for the moment. Instead, she came closer to him.

"Nash, I have a horrible feeling something's going on here."

He didn't falter or say a word.

"I want to confirm my suspicions somehow, but I don't know where or how to start."

"Well, Rebecca, use _your_ brain. This place is under heavy security. We'd get shot on the spot if we went beyond the visitors' spot!"

"I know," she answered in a defeated tone. "But something is off. Call me crazy, but I saw something outside my window. It looked close enough to those zombie creatures that were in the mansion and took the city."

"Wait, are you saying the _virus_ is free?"

"I don't know yet. But what I saw was most definitely not human. It glared at me, the same exact way those zombies did. Those empty, emotionless eyes. It seemed more conscious than the zombies, but . . ."

"But we have no other leads!" he interjected, gesturing with his hands. "There aren't any ways to . . ."

"_Shhh!_"

The two quieted down, listening to the footsteps outside the hall. Eventually, a knock broke the silence.

"The door's open," Nash replied, the two maintaining ordinary stances.

"It's room service," came a woman, the expression on her face unusually cheery. "You know," she continued, "you can take a nice stroll around outside. We have a deck out back where you won't get soaked."

Rebecca figured the woman assumed something of them, being in the same room and all. While it would typically embarrass her, she simply nodded and took Nash by the hand. Nash wore a slight look of discombobulation. She gave him a brief look of seriousness, Nash's eyes quickly shifting from her in cognition.

"Well, I guess we'll take your advice. Thanks!" With those brief words, Rebecca led him outside the hall. She let go of him and started across to her room.

"Where are you going?" Nash questioned her.

"Follow me."

They went into her room, Rebecca glancing around her bed for something Nash couldn't see. She sighed and began to rummage through her bag, the tenacity of her search becoming more intense with each passing second. She turned to him slowly, her expression filled with a fresh anxiety.

"It's gone."

"What is?"

"The note. It's gone. Probably taken by room service. They must've ran out after finding this. That's why they left so quickly." Rebecca put her hand on her sweaty forehead.

"Well, how could it worry them? It can't be that bad. You're just being extra paranoid."

"It had lists of different things that had to do with this place. The reason I wanted this room was because it said to take it. And now I'm in it, and I found the gun." Rebecca stood up, pacing the room in grievous rumination. Too many thoughts filled her fragile mind, too many memories of her evasion from people like the Umbrella operatives taking over.

"Calm down," Nash said in a relaxed tone. "Maybe they just simply threw the note away."

"Yeah . . . well, I guess you could be right. Besides, if they actually read something like that, they would be confronting us by now. But they haven't yet. Still, that was too quick. I barely had my back turned for a few minutes."

Rebecca thought for a moment. The only one she could possibly suspect would be the room service ladies. It definitely wasn't Nash, and the others were unpacking just as they were. There was that strange thing from outside; it noticed her as well as she noticed it . . .

"Rebecca, maybe we should get some fresh air," Nash said with a worried look on his face. Another rumble of thunder sounded from outside, Rebecca nodding after it passed.

"Sure, some fresh air."

She felt a sort of guilt rush over her for including Nash all of the sudden. This mystery she held on her shoulders should be dealt with alone. She'd been a STARS member, for crissake, even if for a few weeks.

Nash went to open the door, Rebecca treading through until she noticed a bright face, startling her to a stop. It was the same room service lady, fresh blankets and mint packets in her hands.

"Oh, did you two forget something in this room? If you want I freshen up a little later."

Rebecca exhaled deeply, smiling back at the lady. "No, that won't be necessary, Miss," she replied. They left the room, Rebecca's eyes appearing preoccupied.

"Not room service," Nash blurted out. Rebecca nodded in agreement, seeming stressed.

"Don't worry, Rebecca," Nash said, putting his arm around her as they walked together toward the end of the main hallway. "I'll be right beside you all the way."

H C F

The office was dark, the room illuminated only by the occasional lightning pouring over the land. A young man with blue eyes stepped regardless, his entire body drenched from the rain.

"I came as soon as I could," he said while catching his breath. His small ponytail was also soaked, unruly strands getting in his face. He wiped them off, continuing onward toward the large desk. The computer console on it was lit, a figure sitting behind it. And the behind the figure was a wall-sized window, the rain and lightning clearly visible among the forest and mountains.

"You're late. Did have any difficulties?" The voice came a collective woman. The man with blue eyes tried to smirk, but was too drained.

"Well, your request wasn't exactly a trip to the park." He threw a folder that landed onto the table with a wet _splat_. The woman in red turned her attention away from the monitor at last, turning her chair around to face him.

"What did expect?" she said coolly. "With Wesker receiving help not only from that corporation, but also the United States, we have no choice but to stick to infiltration missions."

"But that island," he said shaking his head with a frown, "I just can't stop thinking about it. How ironic."

"Enough with your past. We need to act faster. Our 'boss' issued us another mission, starting tomorrow."

"What! I just came back from one!"

"You know," said Red, "you're lucky nobody's here at this time. Don't worry your little head off. I'll be the one going. You just sit tight and wait for our operatives to gather more information. By the way, a day ago, I received info from an operative saying the island is infected. How that was possible is beyond me. Would you happen to know?" There was a light, sarcastic tone to her words.

"Are you trying to insinuate that I was responsible?" he questioned her, his eyes sharply meeting hers.

"Oh, no. In fact, I have a feeling I know exactly who it was."

"Well, spill it," said Blue, his childish smile reappearing.

"We'll wait," she simply said, turning back to the computer. "There are still some loose ends I have to tend to. Why don't you do me a little favor."

"Are you sure it's a 'little favor'?"

"I want you to change the electronic lock code in the fifth floor. That room must be kept locked until I tell you otherwise. The boss won't be back here for another four days, so if any other employee questions you about it, tell them it was the boss' order, strictly to him, not negotiable. Any grief, use force if necessary."

"So, can you at least tell me what's in it?" Blue asked her, his face turning to the electrical show outside.

"Hmm, now that wouldn't be fun."

"And you call me your sidekick," he responded while shaking his head. Red turned to him, smiling slyly.

"Oh, stop it. You know I have only one sidekick. One I long to see."

"Don't forget we both have someone we long to see, me especially." Red shot him an amused look. "At least you saw him recently. I haven't seen her in years."

"Ah, every double agents' weakness," she sighed.

"Um, could you at least tell me when we'll stop hiding in the shadows?" His face appeared sincere that time.

"Seriously, I don't know," Red replied, her tone almost perplexed-sounding. "But one thing's for sure. You can't ever give yourself away to her. Remember that you're 'different' from the rest."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, sounding bothered. He headed for the door, his shoes making wet noises. Red smiled, shaking her head. She would have never guessed two totally different kinds of people would have so much in common.

R E B E C C A

Fresh air whipped across Rebecca's face like a gift from the heavens. She closed her eyes, letting the sound of the rain and the breeze calm her down. After a minute, she turned to Nash who was watching her intently.

"Feel any better?" he asked her, Rebecca replying with a sturdy nod.

"Yes, much better. But still, I have to find some way to reassure myself that everything's okay. I mean, come on, this wasn't a coincidence." Nash sighed deeply, understanding her determination, yet frustrated because he knew there wasn't an easy way.

"Well, maybe if we tell the others, they might cooperate."

"I had something else in mind."

Rebecca made sure they were alone before continuing, her voice softer that time.

"On the way over here, I noticed something. Remember when we headed down what looked like a cliff and crossed that huge bridge with the huge pit?"

"You mean the one with all the fog in the way?"

"Yes!" she said excitedly, but still quietly. "Well, there was another ladder near where we first entered that area. It led down, I noticed, and into an underground room, maybe a cellar."

"Where are you going with this?" Nash asked with a bewildered look, although Rebecca assumed he already had figured out.

"The security there was light when we crossed. My guess is that at night, there's barely anyone guarding. We could check it out, even explore what's down there a bit."

"Are you on something?" he questioned her, although he did seem kind of fond to an extent.

"Oh, it couldn't be that bad. And if anyone finds us, we could just make up a lie, like we were just looking for a 'hot spot' to make love." Nash blushed this time, looking away.

"How ridiculous."

"Of course, I don't mean it." She gave him a sweet look, as if begging for his approval. It didn't take long for him to break, his smile signifying the answer.

"Alright, you got me. We check it out for a little while, then march right out of there. If you find something, good. If there's no clues, tough. Okay?"

"You're the best!" she said, hugging him. He pretended to be surprised by the hug, his face reddening all the more; apparently, he wasn't too successful with the ladies.

"Well, I liked what I heard," came a voice from somewhere behind. The two looked over in shock to see Dolph, the smart boy, walking toward them. "Can I come along?"

"Dolph? You heard . . . what we spoke about?" Rebecca said worriedly.

"Don't worry. I won't dare say anything either. It so happens I saw something that aroused my suspicion, too."

"Oh?" Nash said, quite interested in what he had to say. "What did you see?"

"I noticed some of those soldiers taking in prisoners to that room you spoke of. They also brought a jeep filled with boxes. They had the biohazard symbol on them."

"What do you think they were doing there?" Rebecca asked in a low tone.

"Whatever it is, I suspect foul play," Dolph said, his eyes filled with an emotion similar to fright.

"And you'd be willing to accompany us? Boy, I guess your excuse won't cut it, Rebecca."

"We won't get caught," she stated, "we'll make sure of that."

"You seem more driven," Nash said, "you have another plan?"

"Yeah. We can do it now that Dolph is with us. Are you sure you'll be fine with it?" Dolph smile broadly.

"Of course. I always wanted to be a detective."

The trio made their way to Rebecca's room, where they'd plan out their strategies. But something told her that something was terribly wrong. That room, they were taking prisoners. The government had the access to the T-virus; her being able to study it and find a cure was proof enough. Could they actually be using it for bio weaponry? She discarded the idea posthaste. If she couldn't trust her own government, than the whole world was doomed.


	6. Chapter 6

-CHAPTER 6-

The hall was slightly damp and frigid, making Queen shiver despite the trickles of sweat down her back. And despite that, she had been thinking a lot about the boss and his ties to all this. She knew he had a vague connection to the company, Umbrella. Although it was uncalled for in a mission, she began to ponder that there was more to his knowledge than met the eye.

Both her and Ace continued quietly down the dim hall, the path going up, then right, then up again. In the first segment of the hall, there were two doors. One was a storage for maintenance items, nothing useful there. The other was locked, an etching of some sort of plant near its handle. _Whatever_, she thought. This whole place was ridiculous, having dozens of locked doors and gaudy locks on them, making them appear more for show than convenience. In contrast, though, the doors were sturdy and knob-less, which made up for the lousy two-fold security.

Before they took the next few steps into the second segment of the hall, Ace pulled Queen back, the two of them completely silent against the wall.

"Shh, listen," he whispered. Sounding from only a few feet away, they heard the high-pitched squealing of a tiny machine. It occasionally paused, continuing along as the sound came nearer and nearer.

"Must be one of those cameras the boss mentioned," he added. "The ones that move."

"I'd sure like to get a hold of one of those," Queen whispered, her knack for electronics kicking in.

Soon enough, the sound began to fade. Ace took a quick glance around the corner to make sure there were no other dangers. He gave her a brisk nod, going in before she could respond, his gun kept low. Queen followed behind, just as quietly. Their attention swerved immediately above, where the camera-bot was at. It hung silently on the wall using odd wheels or treads that kept it from falling. However, it no longer moved. It emitted a strange light that illuminated the ground near it. Queen noticed right away what the thing was focusing on; there was a dead body, laying right before the end of the hall where a door was at.

"Ugh, it reeks!" Ace said, his voice muffled as he covered his nose and mouth.

"Of course it does, the guy's dead!" Queen silently scolded. She went closer, careful of the camera thing. It still just remained there, examining the body just as she was. As she knelt down next to the corpse of a badly injured man in a lab coat, she heard an automatic door rise. She turned partially and saw Ace's amazed face.

"Hey, the first unlocked door that actually leads somewhere!" he said almost excitedly. "Come on, looks like no one's inside. Let's check it out."

Queen looked back over her shoulder and saw the number plate beside the lab door. It read "176", a smear of blood right below it like an omen.

"Ace, don't go alone," she said, her tone serious.

"Don't be acting like I'm some child. You know me, I can handle any situation." Queen mumbled something under her breath and put a hand up in submission.

"Fine, I'll be here examining the body. Anything strange, you come right back. And don't get caught!"

"Okay, geez, so annoying."

The door behind him closed, with a mechanical ring. Queen continued on, noticing the deep lacerations in the man's pale skin. His eyes were completely rolled back, his mouth wide open; he must have died an agonizing death. His clothes seemed torn in certain areas, and where they were ripped, there was also dried blood. Apparently, he gave his assailant(s) a big struggle, his nails all pushed up, some chipped off. It also seemed as if he'd been bitten by his assailants in some parts . . .

Queen made one final analysis of the body, checking the pockets. She came up with a somehow broken handgun, the muzzle slanted, and just one extra clip all in one pocket. In another, one on his lab jacket pockets, he had some strange key. There was an etching of what looked like a fish on the key, the color on it blue. It reminded her of the door with the plant etching, the tone of color a forest green. A trend was starting to develop, one that would have to belong to none other than Umbrella. She remembered when the company fell. The public was told of how the STARS had to overcome deadly and bizarre obstacles and puzzles to unravel Umbrella's secrets. There couldn't be a better match.

PANG! PANG! PANG!

Queen stood up quickly at the sudden bursts of gunshots just a room over. For some odd reason, the realization that Ace was in the other room seemed to just hit her. She felt an intense surge of impending danger after thinking about Umbrella, fearing that maybe he ran into some trap, when-

"Unauthorized personnel!" The camera-bot responded to her sudden movement, the light blinding her as she put an arm up to shield her eyes.

"Damn!"

The room began to light up red, the bright luminosities striking a form of panic inside her. She went for the door Ace entered, only to find it locked.

"What the hell!"

She turned around and blasted a well-aimed shot into the tiny machine, sending it flying to the ground with an audible _clank_. The lights began to disappear, along with the computerized voice, sending Queen into a state of shock. She put her gun down slowly, going for the door Ace stepped in, but something moved in the corner of her eye. She looked to her right and saw the body she checked just a minute ago rise up like a person getting up from their nap. The thing let out a rancid sigh, the gust of rotten breath washing over her seconds later. Queen backed away slowly as the living dead body reached for her, advancing steadily. It eyes were still rolled back, but the creature somehow managed to know where she stood.

"What the _fuck_ are you!" she shouted, mainly to herself. She aimed carefully, blasting off one of its kneecaps. It faltered, the impact of her nine-millimeter shoving it back a bit. However, it still resumed its pursuit, the joints of the kneecap rubbing and snapping against each other without the bone to connect its tissue. Although all the blood on its sickly body had dried, there was still a gurgling noise it released, like some kind of bile literally in its throat. The liquid began to dribble down its mouth, the smell intensifying.

All of that happening within a couple seconds, Queen opened fire again, this time blasting it in the center of its chest. It reeled back, letting out a moan not so much in pain, but in frustration. The body remained resilient, recovering from the blast entirely. She saw the hole right through the decaying flesh, the hole that no ordinary living thing could simply ignore. But it did so. It was only a few feet away when she readjusted her aim and before she could pull the trigger-

PANG!

The creature hit the ground hard, a ragged hole in the back of its head. As it fell, Ace came into view, his face sweaty and in as much shock as she was in.

"Ace!" she shouted, stepping carefully over the body. "Is it really dead now?"

"Man, don't you watch zombie flicks, Queen?" he asked, a forced smile forming on his pale face. "Of course it is."

"What happened in there? Was there another?" Her face was filled with a fear she never quite expected. And as he nodded slowly, that face remained, her eyes fixed at the twitching body of the thing that was a man once. She held up the key she found with a shaky hand, remembering what they had spoken about before; _T-virus_. This was a result of the virus, and she was sure King knew something about it. It wasn't any coincidence. At that very moment, Queen also began to worry for the others.

"Ace, we have to contact the others and let them know!" Ace wore a look he normally didn't wear.

"I tried it already, when I took down that other one. There didn't seem to be any connection whatsoever."

"T-that's impossible!" Queen was starting to lose her nerve, the idea of finding the mangled body of one of her friends unbearable. She no longer cared about the mission, not as long as she knew her comrades' lives were in great peril. And if they became infected . . .

_They'd be zombies, too._

She turned to Ace, who's face hadn't changed much.

"We have to catch up to them ASAP." Ace nodded in agreement. They turned back toward the beginning of the hall, only to see some strange device latched onto the door. It blinked red voraciously. Ace approached it first, opening a small panel below the light. An input pad was exposed, the contraption asking for a "Level 4 ID" code. He slammed it shut, giving Queen a look of fueled frustration. At that very moment, they were strangled in the reins of the psychotic corporation.

R E B E C C A

Midnight sprung, the encroaching darkness spreading around the island like a blanket. The sky was nearly pitch black from the lack of effulgence in the area. The heavy rain had ceased, but the weather promised more as the thunder and lightning continued on. Everyone was in their rooms, awaiting the next day's ordeal. After the briefing, they would be expected to do major research and work together to figure out some safety protocol with the use of various biological weapons the government stored. However, Rebecca had other plans for the moment.

She opened her door as slow as she could, the creak reduced to a whisper. She looked across the hall; nothing. Luckily there wasn't much security around the vicinity of the residence. Rebecca shut the door with the utmost care and stalked quietly down the hall, heading straight outside to the back where they first decided to go through with the plan. In a matter of minutes, she'd be trespassing on federal grounds. But she knew something was going on, and if what Dolph said was true, they were doing exactly what Umbrella did. She opened the screen door and saw them standing on the deck, their faces shifting to her.

"Well, it's about time," Nash said with a smile. "And you were the one urging us to get here on the dot."

"I was only a few minutes late," she said. "Besides, I was just checking on something." Nash gave her a look of interest.

"So, how will we manage to get passed the gate?"

"The gate? Oh, we'll just have to find another way to the bridge."

"You mean you haven't gotten to that problem yet," he stated rather than questioned.

"Don't worry," said Dolph with a smile, "I have something that goes perfect for just the occasion." He dug around through his pockets and came up with a small bag filled with what looked like pills.

"What are those?" Rebecca asked, examining them as he explained.

"Sleeping pills. Ones that I created myself. They're extra strong, since I have a very hard time sleeping."

"And how do you plan on using them, may I ask?" Nash further questioned him.

"Ah, already got to that," he said, his face appearing modest. "I gave bottled water with the powder of the pills to room service and told them to distribute them to the guards out at the gate for their 'extreme hardship in the sun'. The pills are practically tasteless in drinks."

"But how do you know they actually drank from them?" asked Rebecca with a nervous look on her face.

"You don't actually think I would go through that trouble to assume they drank it, do you?" he replied mirthfully. "I asked Elaine if she could fetch me room service just as they delivered the goods. When she came back, I managed to indirectly ask her what they were doing. Just as expected, the humidity got to those guys."

"Wow, very impressive," Rebecca said with a nod. "You'll have to tell me the main active ingredients of the pill. I could use those."

"Can we get on with this already?" Nash asked, starting to show a tinge of irritation. They went around the back, which led into a small forested area. There was a barely visible pathway through the woods covered in weeds and other vine-like plants. She paused there, looking at the others.

"Okay, I noticed this path through outside my window. I asked the ladies from rooms service if it was open to the visitors, and she said she had no idea where it led, that it had been there before the government marked the island there's."

"Your point?" Nash asked her, looking quite puzzled that she'd stop and mention it.

"This means we shouldn't get caught through here. And if my calculations are correct, it'll border around the giant chasm where the bridge is. As long as those guards remain asleep, we can climb down and avoid direct contact with them."

"Hmm, that'll make coming back much easier," Dolph added as he surveyed his environment.

They made their way through the path of grass and vegetation, their steps muffled by the lush plants. The woods became foggier as they made their way near the coast, clouding their vision to a couple of feet. Nonetheless, the route was still obvious enough to stay on. When the fog began to subside, Rebecca was able to see the huge chasm. From how high up they stood, she could see it led deep into the ocean.

A strong gust of wind blew at her face, the whistling salty air almost ominous. She looked down and was relieved to see her memory was intact; right below them were vines. They could use them to climb toward the ladder that led down to the bridge. There was a crack of thunder as she gazed at the door across the bridge and behind the ladder opposite to them.

"Okay, we'll climb down one at a time," she said in a low tone.

"Hey, wait," Nash interrupted, "I don't see the guards." He was peeking through the trees and bushes, looking at the gate the guards stood at.

"Could they have moved somewhere?" Rebecca asked, trying to make sense out of it. "Well, better for us. Now they're sleeping somewhere else."

She began her descent first, assessing her weight on the vines. They held on strongly, clung to the rocky wall without wavering. She gave them a thumb's up, climbing down slowly, edging to her left in an attempt to reach the ladder. Meanwhile, Dolph went next, Nash keeping his eye out for any other guards. Surprisingly, there were barely any at all. He would think there was something suspicious going on, but he had nothing else to go by.

By the time they all reached the bridge, they were all following Rebecca. Behind the ladder was the door, locked with a code. The key panel oddly enough asked some riddle. They each looked at each other in mild bewilderment and read it.

_What living specimen is both innocent and devious, both cute and disgusting, and feral yet fiercely loyal?_

"That has to be a human, right?" Rebecca mentioned, causing for the others to think on it. "They can be either one at any given time."

"I think I heard something like this before," Dolph said, still dwelling on it. There was another crackle of thunder, making them tense up more.

"Let's try this," Nash said, inputting the word _dog._ Then, he erased it and put _canine_. He hit the "enter" key and the light blinked followed by an audible _click_, signifying the lock's release.

"Wow, how did you know it wasn't just 'dog'?"

"It was a trick riddle. It was easy enough to guess. They wanted to test the person entering the code, but what really made me wonder was how they worded it. They said 'specimen', not animal."

"I don't know whether you're smart or weird," Rebecca said with a broad smile.

Dolph entered first, the other two following closely behind. It was rather dark inside, the hall extremely narrow. The ground was made from the very dirt of the island, Rebecca assuming it wasn't any part of the facilities around there. The path continued forward, eventually hitting a ladder.

"Still sure you want to do this?" Nash mentioned to Rebecca, who in turn nodded firmly, her face appearing sedulous and filled with the look of duty.

"I have to know if they're using the virus. That would make things . . . more difficult, but it just isn't right."

"What will you do if the truth turns out just as you feared? What will you do then?"

Nash's question caused Rebecca to lower her head and think. What could she do if the U.S. government was using the T-virus for the same purposes as Umbrella? It finally dawned on her that if they were conducting experiments, their use as scientists may be to promote their work. But, they would be able to figure it out, wouldn't they? There wasn't any way they could've been brain-washed . . . or was there?

"I don't know," she said with hesitation in her voice. Dolph decided to listen in the conversation. "Well, if push comes to shove, we could always locate a computer terminal within the lab and contact someone."

"Will that even be of any help to us?" Nash asked. "I mean, just one ordinary person knowing this can't make it public or anything."

"No, but I have a 'friend' who works for the government. Just recently, he even found the President's missing daughter. I know he would never get corrupted by the government like that, especially after surviving the Raccoon City incident."

"You know Leon Kennedy?" Nash asked in amazement. "You're something else."

"Yeah, well, if anyone, he could help us."

"Perfect," said Dolph, "now all we need is the evidence."

"Okay," Rebecca said, taking a deep breath, "let's get going."

They each went down the ladder, Dolph going down last. Rebecca continued through the foggy course, wondering why agents of the U.S. would use such a strange hall. It also added to her suspicion. The next hall had a steel-reinforced door on the right wall, an ordinary knob on the cold, gray metal. The path did continue onward, but she was curious as to what a room down there would hold. It had a code etched on the front of it, reading "Area six". The etching reverberated in Rebecca's mind, reminding her of the note. She tried her best to remember the cryptic messages that seemingly meant something.

_Below the funny man, beware 176 . . . ah, area 8!_

She smiled suddenly, the others taking note.

"What is it?" asked Nash.

"The note, remember I told you?"

"What note are you talking about?" asked Dolph with a baffled look.

"Oh, it was a strange note with many hints. It had to do with this island, but I just recently figured that out. Of course, I had to go and lose it."

"Well, did you remember something?"

"Yeah, this door says Area 6, right? The note said something about Area 8."

"You're saying we should find something in this 'Area 8'?" Dolph asked with an unsure expression.

Before she could say anything else, there were footsteps heading their way from the undiscovered end of the hall. They all just looked at each other and went for the door, luckily unlocked. It squealed open, the sound echoing loudly in the underground hall. Nash, the last to enter, shut it quickly, turning around to see another narrow hall with bricked walls. Torches lit the way, the flickering sounds running chills up Rebecca's spine. It was cold and dank, reminding her vaguely of the area beneath the training facility in the Arklay Mountains.

They walked onward, taking quicker steps in order to evade whoever was on the outside of the room. But then, Rebecca noticed the place was littered with cells on both sides of the each wall. This room was a prison, but something seemed off. There was a horrible stench that made Rebecca freeze in her tracks. The others did the same when they saw her.

"We need to keep going, Rebecca," Nash whispered. "What's the hold up?" Rebecca looked back at him with an odd look, pulling out her handgun. The first several cells were empty, some of them smeared with dried blood. In some of them, there were indecipherable bloody chunks, making her face cringe. The smell worsened, and when she neared the end, she let out a gasp that made the others rush to her side.

In the second-to-last cell, there were bodies piled up, rotting and _melting_ together, the bones clearly visible. The flesh was just a heaping pile of liquid-like material oozing into the other ones. Rebecca covered her mouth, unable to comprehend why anyone on this island would do such a thing.

"Holy shit," Nash let out, his jaw opening wide. Dolph merely shook his head, half expecting something like that.

Then, the door they just came from opened and shut loudly, the footsteps making their way closer. The others wore shocked looks, their movements frozen. Panicking would only complicate matters further. Nash ran to the end of the hall, jerking at the doorknob of a door that wouldn't budge.

"Shit, this door's not opening!" he spat.

Rebecca had her gun out, wondering if she'd actually have to use it on a living person. She was about to take aim until she noticed something move within the nearby cells. Standing up and approaching the bars of its jail cell, a corpse stuck out putrid, decaying hands, lashing out with a hungry incentive. It nearly swiped at Rebecca's face, who in turn fell back and almost into the arms of another zombie. She let out a sharp cry, backing away into the end of the hall. Nash pulled her back, saying something in a low tone to her.

"Rebecca, give me the gun." Obviously, he didn't trust she would fire at their pursuer. Rebecca was on the verge of panic. The zombies' moans and the footsteps and Nash . . .

Rebecca readied her aim, waiting for the stalker's appearance. She kept her view ahead, positive that she would fire upon the person who helped hide this horrible secret.

"Nash, I was a STARS member once. I won't back down against any _bastard_ who helped do this."

The body came into view, oblivious to the hungry hands that swung tirelessly at it. It was one of the soldiers from before, only he seemed odd. Rebecca took aim, her palms extremely sweaty. As she did so, she looked at his eyes, noticing a red hue to them. He wasn't normal. Rebecca opened fire, the shot grazing his ear; he still didn't falter. He held in his hands, she noticed, an enormous club, spiked all around. With that realization came a urgency to blast down the crazed man. She took one last well-timed shot and the head exploded, literally.

"What the hell?"

What was left of the head folded backward, its throat opening up with a gush of blood. From the incision in its trachea sprung out long tentacles, the vine-like appendages wavering about violently. Rebecca, although in shock, continued to fire, the shots flying about and smacking into the horrific tentacles. One by one, they came off, the stub below, the "head" popping and releasing an unnatural scream of death. The permanently headless body slumped to the ground, finally lifeless.

Rebecca's arms became weak, falling to her sides. She was out of breath, the visage of the tentacle-thing just as disturbing as the zombies in the cells.

"Are you alright?" Nash asked her, putting his arm around her.

"I can't believe this," Dolph said shaking his head.

"We need to head back," Nash said with a stern look on his face.

"Then, you go. I need to find proof of what I just saw."

"You're crazy!" Nash added. "We're going back. Your life isn't worth 'proof'." Rebecca lowered her head in defeat, knowing he was right.

"I'm sorry. You're right. Let's head back before they figure out we're here."

"Yeah, he sure won't tell everyone we're here," Nash said, pointing to the corpse of the guard. He forced himself to smile in order to cheer her up a bit. However, it wouldn't change the fact that the U.S. government had gone corrupt.


	7. Chapter 7

-CHAPTER 7-

King felt his heart pump more rapidly when he began reading the researcher's report. It had been only several minutes since he began scouring the first hall for any clues or disks to sabotage Umbrella. He had that strong feeling the company would reemerge, whether incognito or behind the scenes. However, the sheet that he grasped firmly in his hands was already too much for his brain to absorb. He knew what the T-virus did and what other unspeakable things it was capable of doing, but whoever these people were, they were playing with hellfire.

He read the paper, which lay flat on the desk of some researcher named Ned. Apparently, something must have happened that sent the nutty scientists fleeing for their lives; the table was cluttered as if someone desperately searched the place and stalked out. An Umbrella scientist, abandoning his work? That scared him. There were also half-written memos and the such. The page he found was hand-written, making it practically useless for proof, that is unless he could track this Ned and use him. His eyes sporadically moved, skimming through the report.

_The T-virus S and the LT Experiment _

_Nothing can be said about the ideals of the company and of Dr. Rieger. However, despite all that's happened, we managed to figure out a possible way to finalize the T-virus. Yes, a perfect T-virus with barely any flaws at all. In fact, it shall no longer be called by the title "T-virus"._

_How we derived this wonder started with an accident. After heavy experimentation on a "prisoner" named Paul Jennings, we actually created a version of the infamous T-virus_ _by splicing its RNA structure with that_ _of a rare bacteria's. This resulted in a much stronger virus, where the effects of the T-virus occurred at such an incredible rate, the current vaccine for it was made obsolete. We didn't alert our superiors about it right away. Instead, we stored it away for safe keeping. This T-virus that replicated itself at such high rates was decidedly called "T-virus Superior", or simply "T-virus S". Whenever, if ever, we mention the original one, we'll refer to it as "T-virus R" for "regular"._

_In leu_ _of that, we have deducted that based on Dr. Wesker's quick thinking and studious endeavors, the parasitic sample his group acquired in Romania holds unimaginable potential. For one thing, the parasite has the highest endurance rate and survival rate of any of the parasites we've ever encountered. As Dr. Wesker proclaimed, it could be capable of making our bio weapons unstoppable. Just thinking about it makes us all jittery; instead of zombies, we get high-metabolic soldiers who feed on prey, do not rot, can survive damage to the brain and other vitals, and fight on despite neural impulses, such as pain._ _It's every scientists' dream here in the company. However, because of rarity and slight instability, we've been unable to exploit this wonderful specimen. Still, we've hypothesized that with proper splicing, Parasite P, and the new T-virus S, we would create the ultimate bio weapon, much greater than the others. The LT experiment, named from the initials of a former "candidate" that helped us create the Genetic Virus, will be continued despite the disposal of Jennings. This time, Smith shall be the next host, serving as the link for the supreme work of art._

_Ned Levin, Head of the Microbiology Department_

_Jan. 4 log._

King was about to turn to Joker and show him the researcher's log until several shots echoed throughout the chilly laboratory. King's and Joker's eyes met, filled with a sense of worry for their comrades. Without any words being said, they hurried out of the third room in the hall, racing toward the end where Queen and Ace began their search; it definitely wasn't Jack, since they knew he never carried a handgun. When they reached it, Joker grabbed at the handle, but it remained. The door was locked somehow from the other side. Joker gave King a shocked look.

"It's . . . it's locked."

King took the door right next to it, the plate reading "172". Just as he entered, he heard some alarm coming from the same area he heard the gunshots.

"Damn it!" he yelled, expecting their mission basically kaput.

"We have to go around and find them!" Joker cried, holding up his handgun.

"No shit, but I don't know my way around. This was supposed to be a covert operation!"

King and Joker ignored the test tubes scattered among the scientific clutter, heading for the nearest door. They found themselves in yet another identical hall with more doors dispersed about the walls. The plates were in the 190's.

"We can't be far," King said, "they've gotta be around here somewhere." Joker nodded in agreement.

They broke out into a sprint, no longer caring that their boots were clattering loudly on the gray floors. The alarm could still be heard from afar, making King wonder what was taking the security team so long to arrive, assuming they had one. It would be eerily unusual if there was no one left in the labs.

Joker, who'd been following King, slowed down upon seeing the boss stop in his tracks. The alarm seemed to stop; perhaps he noticed, he thought.

"Hey boss, what's up?"

" . . ."

"Is it the alarm?"

"No."

King was trying to maintain his composure, but Joker could tell that this time he couldn't. It was the first time he saw a look close to fear show in his masculine features. King turned to Joker and gave him a grievously serious look.

"Get your gun ready."

Joker was left in the dark, yet, he trusted his leader well. He gave him a look of concern, his gun prepped and ready to fire. Then, he smelled it. The smell of dead bodies. All of the Hell's Angels mercenaries knew the smell from various other times. And for Joker and King, the smell of rot was unmistakable. However, King was jarred by it, not making much sense. They turned the corner, King pausing and holding his gun up. There was a scientist standing idly facing the door they needed to access. He wavered about back and forth, looking stunned. There were fresh blood stains on his jacket, enough to cause anyone to be on alert, but the boss was breathing rapidly, aiming his gun at the man's skull.

"What are you doing?" Joker whispered.

"Turn around slowly," King said aloud. There was no response from the man, although his head shifted a little. The man did as he was told eventually. His eyes were glassy, the face pale and expressionless. Joker imagined the man in the lab coat was in a state of shock, again, something most mercenaries on their team experienced. But something was wrong. And Joker realized this when he saw its intestines hanging out, the man walking nonchalantly, if not clumsily, toward them. He saw King open fire, the very first shot smacking into its forehead. It crumpled to the ground with a pitiful moan, twitching wildly as a small puddle of blood and whitish fluid spilled.

"What the hell . . ."

"Save the questions for later," King said quickly, "the others are in danger."

King seemed to know exactly what was going on at that point, so Joker followed close behind, taking one last glimpse at the broken body on the floor-

-when the door opened, more zombies shambling inside with just about the same wounds; they all seemed to have been partially eaten in various parts, indiscriminately. Joker held the urge to vomit, instead holding his gun out and firing at the walking corpses. What a balls-up operation this turned out to be, he thought to himself.

R E B E C C A

The night felt like forever, making Rebecca all the more anxious. She couldn't take the fact that they were getting away with such atrocities, and, as a result, wanted so badly to get someone, anyone there to stop them. Then again, if the President and Congress were in on it as well, who was there to call upon? She spent what seemed like hours trying to think up a plan, but not to much avail. It appeared the only thing to do was what she tried to avoid the entire time; she needed to go back.

However, this time, she would go alone. She didn't want to put the lives of Nash and Dolph on the line because of something she wanted to do. She prepped her gun, counting her bullets. She had nine left, not including her loaded Browning HP. Rebecca took one last look at her room before heading off, wondering if what she was doing was right or just completely stupid. Maybe it was both.

She stepped out quietly, trying not to wake anybody. She decided to take the same path outside only to notice the pouring rain. It wasn't too bad, she told herself. With a deep breath and a simple click of her gun's safety being taken off, she strode into the darkness. The forest was less foggier, but just as creepy. She didn't like the idea of being alone, but if anything jumped out at her, she had her gun at least. She briefly thought about the strange zombie that she had dispatched at the tunnel. It wasn't infected by a virus, but by a parasitic creature of some sort. It also seemed more intelligent, if the word even fit as a description. In its arm it held a giant weapon, something the zombies could never do; they were lucky if they got a door to open.

She shook off the thought, looking out at the door on the bridge from the cliff she'd climb down. Again, she was there, the door having the same riddle with the same password. By the time she was inside, her heart was in her throat, the cold, rocky environment making her feel like she was back at the mansion's courtyard. She just couldn't shake off the incident.

Rebecca hurried on, her wet sneakers muted in the natural ground beneath. She went down the ladder once again, wondering why there was such light security in a place such as this. She walked slowly down the torch-lit path, her breathing heavy. She ignored the rooms labeled "6" and "7", stopping when she saw the door with the inscription reading "Area 8".

"Here you are," she whispered to herself, despite her feelings.

The metallic door swung open easily, a draft hitting her face as she did so. The room was much more spacious than Area 6's. In addition, there were cells with much higher security. Heavier steel doors with a single tiny barred window on each kept the prisoners locked safely away, somehow making Rebecca feel ironically uneasy; these must have been much more dangerous subjects . . .

Continuing onward, she stopped mid-stride when she felt her shoe step on something crinkly. She took her foot off what looked like a slip of paper, lifting it and wiping off the dirt. Her spirits lifted when she figured out it was her note, the one that was stolen! All sorts of ideas began to float through her mind as to just how the paper wound up at that spot, but she figured that wasn't the time to wonder; point was, she had it. Feeling only a speck of relief, she glimpsed once more at it, her eyes pausing once more at the message left about Area 8. It said to dig. She glanced around the empty prison curiously. What could her source mean by "dig"? Yeah, the ground _was _made out of dirt, but the questions were where and for what?

She looked at the wall at the far end of the room, noticing three suspicious-looking paintings. The other prison in Area 6 never had them. One was of a couple mourning the death of a child, which was quite disturbing. The second was a picture of man dancing hysterically, a dead body next to him, which was just plain creepy to her. The last was of an older lady looking at a slightly distorted reflection of herself, only she was dead in the mirror image . . .

Rebecca glanced once more at the list of "hints", wondering what purpose they could have. She became frustrated, but something suddenly sparked inside of her when she saw yet another hint. Could it actually correlate? The hint said, "right below the funny man." Looking at the middle picture, she decided that was what they meant. It was the only hint that had anything to do with the portraits.

Rebecca crouched down and began digging, the dry dirt becoming moist as she encountered the lower layers. All forms of insects with many legs crawled around, adding to her disgust. She took a deep breath through her mouth to calm her jarred nerves, hoping, praying that nothing would come through that door. After a few minutes of endless digging, she hit something hard and metallic. She wiped it clean, simultaneously trying to figure out what the hell it was.

"A switch?"

Rebecca hated any kind of switches. Ever since the incident, switches were gateways to hell. Then again, if whoever wrote her the letter added this in, they must've known if it was dangerous or not. Going by a simple assumption, which she hardly did, she pressed it, scared to see some sort of trap set in motion. To her surprise, there was a soft shifting noise, like stone rubbing against stone. She looked up at where the sound came from and saw the paintings spin around, revealing three levers.

"Oh, no. Now levers?"

Again, something she wasn't too fond of. She stood up, absently-mindedly wiping her hands on her jeans, staring at the untouched levers. What horrors could they actually hold, she wondered. There were six cells around her, so her guess was that each one unlocked two, or something like that.

_Great, now I have the chance to get pummeled by a bunch of raving psychopathic lunatics. Who would've guessed Christmas would come twice this year?_

It was Jill's sarcasm ringing in her mind. Thinking about her ex-STARS comrades always soothed her when faced with stressful situations. However, this time, she was completely alone.

Rebecca's eyes lightened as she spotted a rolled up slip of paper beneath the lever in the middle. Once she grabbed hold of it, she unraveled it and read the not-so-long memo.

_The Levers_

_Those who dare to confront any of the prisoners must know this. Three levers lie before you, but one must realize that there is an order in which you pull the levers, for which cells shall unlock fully depends on the order you pull them. From left to right, the levers are numbered one through three respectively. The cells are also numbered as well, as one can tell from the engravement on the doors. The way the levers work is simple; the first two levers you pull down get their numbers added. The last one subtracts that total, equaling a number that's on two of the six doors. However, it is becoming of me to mention that each cell contains a subject we deem extremely dangerous. Whether or not they cooperate with whatever it is you want from them is on you. And for . . ._

The abridged note, torn in half, left Rebecca at that. It seemed like more of a threat than a warning. Dangerous subjects? More like they were hiding something. She didn't like the idea one bit, not even with a handgun at her disposal. She'd seen enough to know a mere gun wasn't enough to survive against Umbrella's bio weapons. Rebecca glimpsed one last time at the note, her mind trying to fight against reason. She could either trust the mystery people who obviously knew more than she was being told, or she could head back again only to do their dirty bidding at the crack of dawn.

Her eyes shifted into a stern look, filled with much hatred for Umbrella. Gathering courage, she decided she'd pull the levers.

_Add the first two, then subtract the total with the last._

It seemed simple to perform, but the outcome was what worried her. She took one last troubled look at the doors, the silence within them seeming most ominous. The doors were labeled, just as the memo said. The doors to her right read _2, 0, 4_, and the ones on the left read _4, 2, 0_ . . .

The numbers weren't the only thing she could see. Beneath the left side's door number 2 was another engraving, this one a single word. It read "Veronica", the writing quite sloppy and seemly done in a hurry. She also took into account that the name was registered on her list of hints. Rebecca's guess was that her "benefactor" wrote in an attempt to adumbrate.

"Well, this must be a sure sign," she whispered aloud, the sound of _something_ breaking the silence making her feel so much calmer. The door's number was 2, so she'd open both 2's. Rebecca pulled the lever on the left and the one on the right, leaving the middle one for last. Nothing happened. Her temporary confidence faded, until she noticed the switch on the floor she unearthed. It blinked a bluish color. She crouched down and flicked it on, getting back on her feet instantly upon hearing the loud _click_ of a lock on her only way out. The levers flipped over again, the stone wall revealing its macabre paintings again. She turned around immediately after, watching the two doors, one at the left-middle and the other at the right-end, unlock in the exit's stead. There was no movement. No sounds, no moans, nothing. Rebecca moved in a little nearer, keeping to her right in order to view what was in the closest door, the one on the left.

The cell was barren, the wooden chain-held bench inside filthy and deserted. That was just about all that was inside. She took a quick closer look at the inside and caught at the corner of her eyes the only actual white object in the sheets on the bench; it was some papers.

She kept her eyes on the other room, afraid that if she turned around for a minute, that would ultimately be her last. The papers slid out easily from underneath the brown sheets, surprisingly cleaner than the cell itself. It must've been a log of some sort, a diary of a poor prisoner, dated back more than a month ago. She didn't want to, but she began to skim through them. The first entries listed were dated back a month in a half ago. The prisoner was a man, as he spoke often about a woman who was his lover. Apparently, he was once a member of the government since he mentioned the President's men betraying him. She wondered if the President _did_ issue these experiments, but stopped skimming when the next entry caught her interest.

_Can't imagine what they injected into me the other day. At first, I began to think it was a final lethal injection, since I overheard them saying something like "he's nothing more than another reject." I was still amazed they didn't turn me into a zombie or something._

_I still can't believe the President issued my incarceration. I still don't know what I did wrong, but my instincts tell me someone else is pulling the strings. I just refused to take this pill some men in black offered me. Now, I'm here. I was hoping I could share this with my "cell mate" in the next one over, but the next thing I knew was taken away to God-knows-where. Chase must be dead._

_I know it's morning, but I have no clue what day or month it is. My memory seems to be fading, everything I know becoming more like a dream. I do remember, though, the girl in the cell across and to the left, the other prisoner number 2. She was placed inside, the fiendish men saying something like "you're our savior", or something close to that. I don't want to die here. Anywhere would be better than this foul prison. I want to see light, I want to see you again, Melissa. But I'm afraid. Afraid that if they don't kill me with their sadistic experiments, I'll just forget about you. Should anyone find this, please locate Melissa Hart. She lives somewhere in New York, although I can no longer remember._

_Cant find you. I miss u. _

_Why not here? Can hink strate, don wanna die alone._

The rest began to get more and more illegible, Rebecca's eyes stuck in a shocked position. Those monsters, they were just as horrible as Umbrella. She needed to hurry and get this information to Leon, or at least make him aware while she searched for more proof.

Rebecca turned around slowly, her eyes meeting the dark cell across the hall. _The girl in the cell across and to the left._ The "other prisoner number 2". The girl there was probably some turning point in their vile experimentation. She advanced cautiously, surprised when she looked inside. Besides the cell, there was a small hole near the floor. Rebecca knelt down a good four feet away, trying to figure out where it led exactly; there was nothing but pitch darkness. Her eyes shifted to the rim of the hole, the moist rocky wall obviously scraped open. She saw several chipped-off finger nails embedded into the stone, sending a shiver throughout her body.

With a strong feeling of remorse for the poor girl, even though she knew nothing about her, she was about to search around some more until she heard the sound of a distant door open from somewhere. Rebecca faltered as she stood up, contemplating what to do. She gave one last look at the escape route below her and suddenly knew she had no other choice; she was going to have to follow the girl's path.

Q U E E N

It had taken them quite some time to navigate through the deserted laboratory. Doors everywhere were locked, and they ran into nothing but half-rotting bodies slumped on the floor as if instantly killed. Both Queen and Ace could only wonder what exactly was going on. It was apparent there was a spill, that T-virus King was involved with several years back had a connection. But as far as they knew, they were fine and unaffected by any pathogen. The question was answered when they arrived at the hall with an elevator. In plain sight was another zombie swallowing chunks of flesh fervently from a scientist. It clawed ruthlessly around the woman's eye sockets, making a mess out of her face. Ace had taken out his daggers, but Queen put out her arm to stop him.

"The other bodies were bitten, too. That's probably what made them these things. Don't get near them."

Ace just nodded, his face pale. Queen adjusted her aim, the zombie rising as it somehow became aware of their presence. Only several feet away, it shambled over, actually faster than the other one Ace took care of. The zombie must have been fresh, its skin pale, but still relatively whole. Trying her hardest not to feel anything for the pitiful ghoul, she opened fire, the very first shot nailing it straight in the head. It exhaled raspily, sinking to the ground delicately. They both stepped over the two corpses, Queen simultaneously thinking about whether she should put a bullet through the eaten one's head, too.

They let it be for the moment, taking a closer look at the elevator. The power, luckily, was still supplied to it. However, for some inexplicable reason, several floors weren't available; it simply said "an error has occurred".

"Where are we heading?" Ace asked with a puzzled look on his face. "The others are probably still somewhere on this floor, looking for us."

"We can't get anywhere with all those damn locks, plus the radios won't work."

Queen tried to maintain her cool, despite the mission's failure in a matter of minutes. The place was still abandoned, which meant all they had to do was grab shit and get the hell out. That and find the others. However, she was most worried about the whole "virus" thing. If it was as contagious as it seemed so far, they were all in for a troubling night. She wasn't as much scared of the things as she was wary. But Ace seemed very pale, the thought of the living dying and rising back up not so uplifting.

King had mentioned that Umbrella was involved with the T-virus; had the infected been clean, it would have been a breeze. The place was a biological battle field, the lab reeking with infection and useful sabotage data. But in their current position, surviving was their main priority.

"Ace, you're right though. We should report back to King before proceeding. He needs to know what we uncovered, and if he already knows . . ." She paused briefly, her face finally distorted with true fear. ". . . well, then lets hope they're safe."

They both went back, making sure not to get any of the dead's parts on their boots once again. Queen paused, though, her heart rising to her throat at what the corner of eyes picked up. She turned around at the corpse that was getting devoured. The wounds on its face and neck were swollen, the outside "layer" drying already. The hands also appeared unnaturally bony, as if the body was still . . . trying to live.

"Hey, we need to hurry," Ace urged, not paying any mind to Queen's quick investigation. She turned around and headed off with him, walking into the same hall they were in a minute ago. Somewhere in front of them in the gray hall, a door rose up, Queen instantly raising her gun as Ace followed suit. A young man in a lab coat with dark brown hair walked through, his expression appearing quite distressed. He wasn't a zombie. Feeling awkward, she didn't know exactly how to react; he wasn't infected, but he was still the enemy. She put down her gun, afraid he'd run if he saw it pointed at him, then walked a bit closer.

"Queen!" Ace whispered, obviously not feeling cool about the idea. The man finally turned in their direction, his eyes conveying intense fear. She was about to tell him that she was human, not a zombie, until he raised a gun, a Desert Eagle she noticed. She was temporarily stunned, the thought never occurring to her, until she was shoved out of the way, Ace yelling her name in greater fear.

"Ace!" Queen cried, as the hot blood began to pour onto her arm. The scientist ran off somewhere, but she didn't give a rat's ass anymore. Ace was shot on his upper shoulder, the blast instantly knocking him unconscious. He was also bleeding at an unbearable rate.

_Shit, gotta get him somewhere with medical supplies, dammit it's all my fault. Oh, Ace . . ._

Queen reached into her side-pack and pulled out some gauze she carried for minor injuries. It wasn't good enough to patch up his wound, but it was all she had until she could take him someplace safe. She bit at the gauze to tear it after wrapping his arm, trying to be careful, but swift. He began to wince, a good sign considering the wound he received.

"Ace? Speak to me, Ace!"

" . . . ugh, _fuck_ . . ."

"That's good! That's really good, Ace. Keep saying that. I'm gonna take you someplace where I can heal that arm of yours, okay?" He put his good arm near her mouth, as if to quiet her down. In a low tone, he spoke, "The room . . . the one I entered alone, at the first hall . . . was a medical bay."

Queen nodded, pleased to hear he was still at least semi-conscious and that there was a room with something better than a band-aid. She lifted him carefully, making sure the bad arm wasn't being moved much. As she carried him further, her thoughts drifted to the man who shot at them. He clearly knew they weren't zombies; in fact, she believed that was what startled him. She hated the idea, but she'd have to leave Ace behind and track down the man. He was the only scientist left alive in the lab, and he'd know where they could escape, or go at least.

"Room 176 . . ." she said to herself, reading the number plate. She knew exactly which room it was by using the nearby zombie corpse as a landmark. It would be their haven for the moment.


	8. Chapter 8

-CHAPTER 8-

Rebecca fit perfectly into the cramped hole, the tiny opening surprisingly steep. When she finally climbed down to the bottom, she took a good look at her new surroundings; cold, dank and slightly foggy, just as any cave would be. Rebecca found herself feeling nervous, the "cave" getting much more darker as she proceeded. It got to the point where she needed to feel her way around, giving her much attested doubt. She mentally told herself she'd turn back if it remained that dark, but she knew herself better than that; she wouldn't turn back empty-handed.

_Wait, is that light?_

She paused for a second, feeling a surge of relief at her finally being able to see her surroundings. The large antechamber she encountered was lit by several melting candles, the wax dripping onto the dark, rocky ground. There were nearby oak desks, all worn and half-decaying in the moisture of the room. She immediately shifted her eyes toward the desk when she noticed the papers lying there, some of which were mere order sheets for supplies at the mainland. Other documents, though, seemed to stick out much more than the others.

_Dicalcium Phosphate, Lithium, ATP imbalances . . . these are test subjects' long term conditions. These _should_ be important documents to them, but they're just lying here getting destroyed._

Rebecca felt a bittersweet emotion throughout her as she began to think just how many more people had to suffer at the hands of cruel and vicious research. With the government at large and no one with a higher voice in the country, more of them were going to die. And to think she was thrilled to help them achieve some insane goal they had in mind. It disgusted her, much more than their creations even did.

After sifting through the "patient diagnosis", noticing the absurd and horrific details just from skimming, Rebecca found something that made her eyes go wide. Parasite P, what they named a parasite they discovered not too long ago, was a specimen that took over its host, using them like puppets. The "queen" would control most of their actions, as well as use them as windows to see the outside without having to face dangers. Furthermore, there were now variants, according to the report. Ones that were milder, yet acting like an electric collar, prodding workers who's intellect was needed. It wasn't long before Rebecca pieced it together with the government's need for this abominable research. God only knew how many were tainted with that strange creature. In addition, it was probable that the creature she killed inside the soldier's body in Area 6 was Parasite P.

Just as she realized the disturbing truth, something sounded clearly through the continuing path ahead, the pitch darkness preventing her from seeing anything. A horrible shriek came from the dark void, the noise anything but human and somehow vaguely familiar. She raised her handgun shakily, her eyes trying to adjust to the open blackness with no target whatsoever. All the same, she felt like her time was up. She saw the hunched over figure of something almost ape-like approaching, but when its yellow reptilian eyes began to glow, it became apparent what it was; a hunter.

The hunter, one of Umbrella's deadliest weapons, still walked over slowly, not keeping its unnatural eyes off of her. It seemed intent on savoring her fear. She didn't hesitate, firing three shots into the beast's upper chest before it began to advance in a frenzy of a run. Rebecca, losing ground almost instantly, took a chair from one of the desks and with one hand tossed it in its path, trying to buy time for her to take aim again. There was no stopping the creature's single-minded bloodlust. The hunter merely leapt into the air, winding up directly behind her. With a cry of surprise, she ran behind one of the desks in hopes of creating some distance, but the hunter was easily gaining ground. It literally tore through the desk with its razor sharp claws, its greenish, scaly skin pulsating wildly as it shrilled mightily. Rebecca was too stunned, only able to stare at it with awe, also dumbfounded at the futility of her pitiful attempt to escape. She backed up slowly, her legs unable to move more than that; dread was overtaking her body. It would have all been over, but something broke the four-second silence, a noise so unusual, it somehow caught the hunter's attention also.

Rebecca, too, glanced for a second in the direction of the strange moan, not quite like any zombie or monster she ever heard. To her surprise, the hunter began to back away from the obscure hall the noise came from. Something . . . abnormal came into its view, the hunter roaring before lunging at the thing head-on. Rebecca didn't know what to do at that moment but back away from the fight. However, she couldn't elude the view of the creature that stood just a few feet away; it was the same deformed "zombie" she saw just out her window hours ago. It had one eye noticeably larger than its other, only the larger one swaying around as if to take in the environment. All its bones seemed rearranged, and its gray skin added to its mutant appearance. It continuously shuddered violently, as if in chronic pain. And the giant tumor-like bump behind it made it seem more like a monster than what it was. Wearing only ragged straps, probably the remains of its clothing, throughout its distorted body, it advanced awkwardly toward the hunter.

The hunter began tearing up the mutated mess, strange, discolored ichor seeping from each wound. Yet, the enigma barely faltered. The area beneath the wounds seemed to undulate profusely, as if slithering serpents moved within. It grabbed the lizard with long-fingered hands and lifted its own horrible face up in the air, its mouth opening wider than Rebecca could have possibly imagined. And just like that, it took a gigantic chunk from reptilian beast's neck, the creature crying out in pain. It continued feasting on its throat until Rebecca saw a long, vine-like appendage pierce through the hunter's upper chest. The mutant tossed the still-spasming body aside, blood smeared all over its crooked jaw and mouth, turning its dumb-like look toward her. The wounds it had just seconds ago were already nothing more than grayish, whitish skin, healing instantaneously. Furthermore, the vines seemed to grow out from the countless orifices of its grotesque body.

_This can't be real, can't be happening . . . !_

Rebecca turned straight around, dashing back toward the hole she came from; she could easily climb the rocks and get out before the slow creature caught up. Even as she ran, she heard its rough, sporadic breathing behind her, making her go faster even through the dark. She had just gotten there when she noticed the light from hole flickering. Small pieces of rocks were crumbling down to her feet, and at that moment, she felt all hope dwindle down to nothingness.

"Hey!" she shouted, somehow hoping someone was up there listening. But she knew well enough that whoever, whatever it was did it to purposely trap her within. The only possible answer was that her helpers who guided her there were leaving her to die with the mutated freak, lost and forgotten.

K I N G

The last body collapsed onto the glossy floor, thick blood spilling viscously all over. King lowered his handgun, exhaling through his mouth to avoid sniffing that horrible stench. He kept asking himself what the hell was going on, but he wouldn't get an answer that way. Umbrella wasn't the kind of group that would make the same mistake twice, or so at least he imagined. Someone must've screwed them over. He figured he would investigate on that matter as he searched for evidence; he'd learn something and complete his objective just like that. But first, there was his comrades to worry about. They probably weren't having much luck either.

King turned to Joker, who simply nodded stiffly, apparently startled himself. Yet, he did an excellent job dispatching the stumbling freaks. He took one last, hard look at the twitching corpses in front of him before moving on to the next hall. There was a loud blast from somewhere much closer than before, making him feel more anxious. He couldn't just run through each door anymore, unless he felt like running into the arms of a carrier.

"Joker," he began, "these are the ones I mentioned before, infected by the . . ."

"Yeah, I figured that already," he responded before King could finish. "Lets skip the talking and help the others." He wore a look of utter distress, although he hid it well. Joker wasn't the worrying type, but King supposed under these circumstances, anyone would feel frightened.

They continued down the hall, this time the doors reading the 180's. As they made their way down, one of the doors rose up automatically, something moaning pitifully shuffling into view; another zombie, what a surprise. King, who was in front, blasted a single gaping hole in its neck, the choked, gurgling creature still advancing less than three feet away. Joker finished it off with a shot to the inner ear, rending the walking cadaver dead for good.

"Thanks," King said in a low tone, crouching down at the fallen dead.

"What are you looking at?" Joker said curiously, his weathered face distorted with a mild interest.

"His name badge . . ."

Joker took a quick look, noticing the name "Ned Levin" written on it. Their pathetic plan to investigate "Ned" from before was now useless, Joker thought.

"Well, no use gawking at _that_," he said shaking his head in disappointment.

"Wait, his card is different from the others."

King took it off, standing up to show Joker what he uncovered.

"You see, it's actually two cards, this one his badge and the other this green keycard."

"Yeah, so? Do you know what it unlocks?"

"On our way, didn't you notice those locked doors with the green design next to it?"

"Nope." Joker was getting more and more anxious, not knowing what the boss was trying to imply.

"There were more doors all over with different colored motifs near the lock. Using this card as a keycard could get them open . . ."

"And help us get around and find the others quicker!" Joker finished. "Boss, what would we do without your logical thinking?"

"Freeze," came a voice from behind the two, alarming both of them from their moment of accomplishment. If it was a one of the surviving lab people, they would most likely be screwed. "Turn around slowly, with your hands in the air." They both had no choice, turning as the female voice said. It was a young-looking lady, her appearance seeming unusual for a typical scientist. She had blond, straight hair with bangs to the side, and she looked at least in her early twenties. She had her lab coat on, but with no name badge. Could someone her age possibly be a scientist?

The girl lowered her gun, shockingly an AK-47, leading King to wonder just how she got a hold of one. Still, she didn't seem hostile, as she immediately put down her gun with a relief-stricken face.

"I thought you were both zombies at first," she said, her face wearing concern. "I heard the shots, but was unsure if you were infected. They can't control themselves or reason, let alone understand anything anymore."

"Are you a scientist here?" King asked, lowering his hands just as Joker did.

"Well, yeah, I guess you can say that."

"What do you mean, 'you guess'?" Joker spat. "Tell me what the hell's going on here!"

"I really don't know! I'm from the Main Palace, not too far from this lab. I was told to come here and evaluate on the situation, then report back. The soldiers escorting me had to help out the others down here; it was that bad! And so, I was eventually left alone . . . with this." She held out her automatic weapon, the way she held it making King wonder if it just made her feel better to carry it.

The girl looked up at them and gasped suddenly, her eyes wide. The two turned around to see more zombies stumbling into the hall, obviously sensing potential food. Between Joker and him, they were reduced to headless chunks of rotten meat, hitting the ground from more than seven feet away.

"It must've been a blessing to run into able soldiers," the girl stated with a sigh. "All the others in the security team were completely decimated."

King gave Joker a look, one that Joker exchanged in turn. Apparently, she thought they were surviving clean-up soldiers. They figured they'd take that for their own advantage, using her to navigate around.

"Well, sure. Just stick around with us, we'll keep you safe." Joker's tone seemed more lightened. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Alanis," she replied simply.

"Okay, Alanis, don't stray too far from us."

"Alright, but would you mind not treating me like a child?" Joker laughed almost nervously, nodding in response. King smiled, the girl actually reminding him of that fateful day when he met her, the one who spared his life and helped him. He wondered briefly what she could possibly being doing at that moment, then closed his eyes. If she only knew he was trying his utmost best to stop Umbrella's madness from behind the scenes. It was the best way he could possibly repay her, especially since he couldn't go back.

He reopened his eyes again and continued down the hall. A door with a green motif stood blocking the path. It didn't take King more than two seconds to slide the green card down the reader and open the door. The hall was quite empty, but it seemed to be the area where he heard the last gunshot.

"Where does this hall lead?" King asked Alanis.

"Oh . . . um, if we keep heading down, we'll hit an elevator."

"Think Queen and Ace would go onboard?" Joker asked King with a puzzled tone.

"Maybe."

"Um, may I ask who we're looking for?" asked Alanis.

"Several other members of the security team were spotted, so we've been trying to locate them all and regroup." It was the best King could come up with at such short notice. Next time, they'd have to be a bit more careful what they said around her. It would surely suck if she found out who they really were, or who they weren't rather. Any Umbrella goon would apprehend an intruder accordingly, even a young girl such as her.

_Especially when they carried an AK with them,_ his mind chimed in.

"Well, I don't think going down there is the best idea," Alanis suggested with a serious-set tone.

"Why not?" Joker asked skeptically, almost sounding offended.

"The last living soldier I came across was nearly dead," she began. "But he told me to leave, to get out before the whole place fell apart. What's more, the control consoles are still on this floor."

"The control consoles," King repeated, "what do you mean when you say 'control consoles'?" His expression was rather stern.

"Oh, most of the entire facility here is not operating because of the viral outbreak, what caused these depraved killers. My guess is that during the calamity that ensued in lower floors, the mindless carriers made there way up here and wrecked the place. As a result, we have inaccessible rooms and partially operating devices."

"And that includes the elevator, apparently . . ." Joker added, looking up at the row of unlit lights above the elevator, only B2 and 1st floor bright red.

"Well, this makes things easier," King said in higher spirits. "They're bound to be on one of these floors."

King took a sharp glance at Joker, who in turn did the same.

"I want you to stay here with Alanis and wait at this exact position," he said, occasionally shifting his eyes on the young lady. "I'm going down the take a quick look at the basement level, since Alanis claims it's the most dangerous. Should the others be there, they'd need the help. But in the event that any of them are on the first floor, they may or may not come back to this spot. That's why you're both going to wait here."

"But boss, that could be way too dangerous, even for you!"

"Hey, if gets too hectic, I'll stand down and come back. Don't worry about me." King gave them both a half smile, nodding as the elevator door opened upon hitting the _down_ button. Joker nodded, although his face highly disapproved. He was always uncannily good at anticipating upcoming dangers, which made King feel tense. However, he had no choice. His friends could be in danger at that very moment. And Alanis sure as hell couldn't go down with them; who knew if she'd blow one of _them_ away by accident.

As he stepped inside the rather frigid elevator, the doors closed on the two, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

R E B E C C A

Rebecca was on the verge of a breakdown as the narrow tunnel became much darker, only the faint light from the cracks of the entrance hole shining down like tease. The deformed monster was making its way gradually toward her, its hard breathing making it hard for her to even think.

_It's gonna kill me, just like it did to the hunter if don't do something! Think, think . . ._

Rebecca was taking her aim on the monstrosity even as she began to think. She fired two rounds, one going off into its shoulder and the other nailing it on the lower jaw. It shrieked violently, staggering backward from the impact, its voice vague as to whether it was male or female. Once it regained balance, the disfigured hulk seemed infuriated, charging in a most disturbing, yet effective way. Bones clicked and whined as it gave its best attempts to control the limbs on its body. Rebecca couldn't back up anymore.

She jumped up in incredible fright, looking down immediately to see the journal from above at Area 8 on the ground. As that happened, the monster paused in its tracks, not even paying any mind to the healing wounds she inflicted upon it. It made an odd noise, its eye trained on the notebook in her hands.

_Does it want it?_

Rebecca was just as puzzled as she was afraid. However, the creature was still advancing. In a desperate ploy to get away from it, she tossed across the rocky chamber, the monster actually stumbling after it. Rebecca took the few precious seconds to fly passed it as it took the journal into its odd arms.

_Don't look back, just run!_

In a heartbeat, Rebecca found herself in the room with the trashed desks, wondering what exactly that could've been. It had an odd resemblance to the creature at the estate Chris, Barry, and Jill said they encountered. With B.O.W., nobody would surely know.

Rebecca, filled with a new fear, held her pistol up, ready to fire at the next thing that so much as twitched in her presence. She knew she had at least thirteen bullets still chambered and a nine-bullet clip left. However, it wouldn't do anything to stop the voracious hunters. Rebecca sighed, her breathing shaky. It didn't seem like there was any other choice. She continued through the path, making sure to keep her hearing in check; any faint sounds of the hunchback creature or hunter could save her life, but for the moment it seemed the mutant was preoccupied on the journal of the Jennings victim.

The hall narrowed again, taking her into subtle darkness. Her foot kicked something hard and moist, causing her to flinch with her gun outstretched. Upon taking a closer look, she noticed it was a carcass of another hunter, the parts mangled into a twisted mess. Somewhere behind her, she could hear the low roars of the mutant; she was safe for the moment. The pathway's stone ceiling began to drip excessively, the sound of a distant waterfall sounding ahead. She jogged over in a hurry, wanting badly to finally get out of the dank caverns. However, where she'd end up worried her.

Moonlight seeped in through the cave-like opening at the end of the tunnel, an illuminating miracle. She took a minute to view where she was at the moment and noticed the rocky exterior connected to a large metallic door. Several enormous holes from the ceiling above released not only faint light, but also gushing water from a source she couldn't see. It would've been a beautiful sight if she weren't involved with the nostalgic horrors of the past. Her shoes splashed against the puddles on the ground as she hurried over to the enormous door, pausing to view the access code entry. Strangely enough, yet to her relief, someone had screwed up the controls and left the door completely unlocked. Whether it was a good thing or a bad thing she'd have to see, unfortunately.

Behind her came another reptilian shrill. Rebecca heard the clicking sound of sharp, long nails against the rock floor, spurring her into immediate action. She took a quick glance as she hauled open the heavy door, the time slowing to a crawl as the hunter glared hungrily at her. In followed two more from the cracks above them, just as Rebecca entered and, with all her remaining strength, shoved the door shut. Several nails clattered loudly against the reinforced door, Rebecca backing away at the sounds of angry, shrieking monsters beyond it.

Rebecca exhaled deeply, trying to get her heart level back to something near normal; she was still dizzy from the rush of adrenaline. Where she stood was some underground laboratory, probably more inland than where the residences were. The hall wasn't too narrow, actually much roomier than the horrible tunnels. How or why they led to that lab she couldn't say. But the lab was quiet, revealing no danger that she could see or hear. However, if the hunters were released, her guess was that something must have gone very wrong down there. That would also explain the shortage on security in the halls.

She took in the simple hallway, the walls grayish blue with the wirings of the ceiling all exposed, leading her to believe this area wasn't completed. There were two enormous double-doors, one to her immediately to her right, and one a bit further down on the left side. Both were locked by some key card. But the hall stretched around toward the left. Rebecca approached the end of the hall with caution, her body shivering slightly from the cold air after being in the moist caves. Nothing, luckily, stood in waiting for her as she veered the corner. But suddenly, there was a hum from somewhere nearby, making Rebecca's attention swerve somewhere in front, where she was heading. After noticing the peculiar door with an "up/down" switch, she turned back to the corner, peeking her eye out to see who, or regrettably what, peered out of the elevator.

_Damn, it could be a scientist! Maybe they used the tunnels for the hunters, and they spotted me . . . ! Or it could be those parasitic zombie things . . ._

She took yet another deep breath, the panic that set in dissipating very slowly. Too many thoughts about the mansion entered in her head and flooded her with the horrible images of the monsters and her comrades. But she held on bravely, her gun inches away from her face as she waited for any sudden movement that appeared threatening.

"W-what . . ."

Rebecca's eyes became contorted with a sense of shock and utter disbelief, releasing hidden emotions that made her feel like crying, laughing, and being afraid all at once. But the image was real, not a false one. She could hardly believe her eyes. She wanted to run right over there, but something inside her restrained her from doing so.

Standing right outside the elevator was Billy Cohen, alive, unhurt, and right there in the midst of the chaotic T-virus . . . with her.


	9. Chapter 9

-CHAPTER 9-

The door appeared to open smoothly, the scientist's heart rate slowing back to normal. He suspected the room was untouched by the unholy creatures running amuck. Only a handful of personnel had access to such an important room, after all. Hugo made his way into the dark cultivation chamber, the air inside quite frigid. He shivered out of fear, excitement, and just from the sheer coldness in the room. In a matter of minutes, all of the chamber's treasures would be his. To think, he got his hands dirty enough to get this far, and Percival Caswell hadn't even given a hint that he knew about his true objectives after blowing away an infected Mark.

_Stupid fat-ass jerk. Can't even tell one of your own kind from the carriers. Hope you burn in hell!_

He flipped the light switch on, the whole room illuminating a strange bluish, purplish hue. Dozens of visible tanks and test tubes were arranged neatly around the room, like some biological gallery. The specimen within seemed like they were eying him, their sleep probably not even semi-disturbed. However, none of them would even compare to the wondrous items he cared to carry away. And when this whole pathetically easy ordeal was over, he'd be living in the tropics, basically a millionaire. Normally, he would have gut feelings for that kind of . . . devious work. But for once in his life, he had the utmost confidence that he'd make it and with time to spare.

_Let's see, procure all samples of T-virus S, the Parasite X, and at least one of every other prototype. The 'copter should be here soon, said I'd hear the humming through this intercom . . ._

Hugo used the computer to access the intercom, also unlocking various lab doors that would be necessary for his escape. He then worked the controls, the intercom set to the helipad in Facility B; no helicopter sounds, not even a single beep. Hugo figured he was a bit _too _early. After all, he'd been anxious to get this over with for so long, hiding everything from his "fellow" virologists. The briefcase he was handling contained everything he wanted, making him feel even closer to a life of no more worries. He could taste the sea breeze and pina colladas.

The door behind him sounded, startling him from his reverie. He fumbled out the magnum, worrying that maybe one of the MA-121's he released managed to get this far. However, he let out a sigh of utter relief upon seeing who it really was.

"Ah, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" he said in a shocked tone. The acquaintance said nothing. "Give me a hand with this, will ya? I thought you were going ahead to take care of other business. Why are you here?" Again, no response. "Uh, are you alright?"

Hugo's eyes went wide when he saw the silver gun rising and pointing straight at his forehead. The look on his acquaintance's eyes told him he was going to die. And in one last thought of complete regret, damning himself for being so reckless, he accepted the betrayal, his mind screaming for redemption. The gun went off, and down crumpled Hugo's body, as dead as the others in all four facilities. Only Hugo wouldn't become a zombie. At least not that.

K I N G

After the elevator came to a final halt, King braced himself for the coming horrors, expecting the worst. For some inexplicable reason, the fact that Joker and Alanis were up there alone and he was down here made him feel slightly queasy. He thought about the facility he and Rebecca escaped, wondering in dismay if he would have to go through the same. However, to his surprise, the hall was quiet and dim. Most importantly, empty. He stepped out, taking in the area as quick as he could: unfinished metal plating, wires scattered about, more doors with colorful motifs. It was a lab, alright. An Umbrella lab. He tried to keep his priorities in check as he went along. After all, survival was the least of his worries if he couldn't get his objectives cleared. According to his client, worse things would be in stored for the world if they didn't get the right information at the right time. Obviously, they had everything planned out. They just needed the go-ahead.

He peered left and right, the hall branching out both ways. To his right, a sign was posted on the wall reading "exit". He didn't know where the exit would lead, nor did he care. He walked cautiously through the metallic corridor to the left, hearing the low-pitched rumble of thunder probably sounding through the exit. The only unlocked door led into some type of resting room for the scientists, the coffee maker sitting atop of a counter nearby still slightly steaming-

-and in one of the corners stood a carrier, his back to a half-eaten corpse. The zombie began moving when he paused to take aim, this zombie already half-eaten himself. The majority of its face was bitten off, the flesh revealed all the way to the neck, exposing sinewy red strands of rotting muscle. As it moved, the chunks of flesh seemed to almost slide off of the bone, its pitiful cries making the job of dispatching all the more gruesome.

Despite himself, King let out a smile at him killing the thing with one head shot. At least these guys wouldn't be much of a hassle. And what was more, he felt very little sympathy for the once-human creatures. They _were_ Umbrella scum who knew exactly what was going on. King continued examining the room for anything useful, stepping over the faceless zombie. There was nothing more to really see; just a couple of tables with half eaten food and still-warm coffee, counters full of various documents, all hand-written, and a six foot aquarium with seemingly nothing inside.

He was about to check out the documents when he heard the door open from his position, turning around immediately with his gun held out. If it was another scientist, he would have some trouble on his hands. But when he saw the worried, youthful look that stared him right in the eye, he felt his limbs go weak. The gun in his hands slowly fell to his side as he began to feel a lost sentiment as Rebecca came into view. His mouth opened, but nothing seemed to come out.

"Hello, Billy," she spoke first in a low tone, her same delicate face wearing a frown.

". . . Rebecca," he managed to say, feeling an odd sense of disorientation and nostalgia. She was right in front of him, in this lab, in a place filled with unspeakable dangers and horrors. What could she possible be doing in a place like this, he thought.

Rebecca walked over to him, speeding up as she got closer and just fell into his arms, no longer needing words to express her relief and joy at seeing him in one piece. Billy knew it, too.

R E B E C C A

Rebecca felt the urge to cry, but somehow pushed it back the same way she pushed herself to unwrap her arms from him. Billy was _alive_. That was all that mattered at the moment. But by the same token, they were both in a predicament where they needed to stay alert; already there were two bodies on the floor, presumably infected. She looked up at Billy with warm eyes, a smile forming on her emotional face.

"Billy, I was sure that you were dead," she said, a sad tone in her voice.

"Did you have that little faith in me?" he asked, smiling a bit. Rebecca smiled back even brighter in turn. "I had to leave the country for six years, but being able to see you again is definitely a dream come true." She looked amiably at his barely unchanged face.

"Oh, before I forget," she said in a hurried tone. She dug through her jean pockets and came up with a glittering item resembling a chain. Rebecca leaned forward, going on the tip of her toes to reach his neck and leaned back again, putting a hand on her chin as she viewed the results.

"Looks just as good on you as it did before," she said with amusement.

Billy saw the name on the dogtag, reading Billy Cohen. He looked back at her in a state of wonderment.

"You've seriously hung on to this for six years?"

"I've always kept it for good luck," she replied, "and it hasn't failed me since." There was a brief silence, broken only by the drowned out sound of thunder.

"Rebecca, a lot has happened since we've last seen each other. But one thing never changed. I've always wanted the chance to tell you that I've been doing my part to put an end to something like this and what happened at Raccoon."

"Likewise."

Rebecca was staring at the ground, feeling sort of awkward. She walked over to the fish tank, glancing inside at the plentiful amount of vegetation inside.

"Billy," she started, "I know you're wondering the same, but what brought you over here? Are you . . . working for anybody?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" she said, stunned by his reply.

"What made you ask me that?" he questioned back.

"The other surviving STARS members get information frequently, and there's word of another party being involved in all this."

"And you think I'm a part of it?" Billy walked over next to her, beside the fish tank also.

"Well, yeah, I do."

"And if I was, what would think of me? What would you do?"

"I was just worried!" she said, raising her voice a bit, then lowering it again. "I know this sounds stupid, but I've thought a hell of a lot about things recently. Sometimes, I felt like just escaping, abandoning my past to start a new life. But, I have a duty to fulfill, one that even now seems more impossible. I want us to fight together, and if this group you're working for has the same agenda as mine, I want to be a part of it."

Billy gave her a look of utter amazement.

"You do?"

"Yes. I've never felt confident about my work, alone. I want to be a part of a team I can trust."

"A team you can trust. What do you mean?"

"I don't know if you're aware, but the U.S. has full authority of this island and everything that's going on around here."

"What! Are you sure about that?"

"Positive." The look on Rebecca's face became grim. "I can't even come to trust them anymore. What's more, someone is controlling them using a parasitic specimen they call Parasite P."

". . . Wesker." Rebecca looked up at him in confusion.

"Wesker? How can that be?"

"It's a long story," he said shifting his stance as he stretched. "Rebecca, we can't die here. We have to get the hell out, this time together." Rebecca nodded, but not after pointing to something in the tank.

"What's that . . ."

They both leaned in to see a blue keycard on the gravel of the aquarium, the plants swaying back and forth, half-covering it.

"Well I'll be, it's another one of those things," Billy said in a less excited tone. He put his right hand mid-way into the water when the it began to fluctuate almost instantaneously. He managed to take it out just on time, a school of unnaturally altered piranhas splashing up with jaws snapping wildly.

"Where the hell did they come from!" Billy cried. Rebecca checked his hand immediately, alleviated to know they didn't get him.

"They look like South American piranhas, probably caribes," Rebecca added. "I don't know much about them, but they're normally not that big. And I don't think they hide in wait of prey."

"So, Umbrella even has B.O.W. pets," Billy said, shaking his head.

"Wait." Rebecca hurried over to the counter where there were various snacks and drinks for the scientists in the lounge. Among them were tongs, which she grabbed eagerly as she headed back over to Billy.

"Tongs. Are you sure about this, Rebecca?"

"Hold on."

She dipped the metal tongs half-way into the water, exciting the voracious fish into a frenzy. She removed it, watching as the creatures withdrew into their dwellings amongst the plants. She tried again, this time going in fast and snatching the card up as the fish began their attack again, only they grabbed at nothing.

Rebecca smiled in assuagement, grabbing the soaked plastic keycard and staring at it.

"Quite the daredevil," Billy said, "not the little miss pris from before, huh?"

"Nope. Just like you're not as much of a meat-head as you were before," she teased back. "Besides, I had my fill of crane game experience." They both smiled again at each other, some of the tension created from the lab wearing at each others' presence.

Billy was about to say something until Rebecca saw it, the carrier right behind Billy, its mouth wide open. "Billy!" she screamed, her insides feeling weak at the sight. It had already grabbed hold of him by the time he realized he was in danger. At the same time, Rebecca pulled out her handgun and took aim. After Billy shook the thing off, she fired two shots, the hits landing on its rancid, slimy face. It crashed to the ground with a weak sigh.

"Billy!" she shouted, about to ask if he was bitten. And she gasped when she noticed the bite on his shoulder, the deep teeth-set marks causing him to bleed just enough for alarm. "Billy," she repeated, knowing that it wasn't just the bite that worried her. He must've been infected. She began to patch it up with some cloth napkins from a nearby table.

"R-Rebecca . . ."

"I'm right here, it doesn't look too bad, really." Her attempt at trying to push aside the fact didn't work on him.

"Rebecca, the virus."

"I know, Billy . . ." Rebecca already felt the tears welling up, not knowing what the hell to do. If he was infected, there was probably little chance of him making it. It was too ironic that she created the damn cure but didn't have any on her to help him.

_No! I won't think like that. There's gotta be a way . . ._

"There's gotta be a cure somewhere around here."

"How can you be so sure?" Billy said almost in a whisper.

"Billy, I created the cure."

"You did, huh? It doesn't surprise me." He smiled, not letting the fact that he most likely contracted the virus get to him.

"Be strong, Billy. I'm going to search around for the T-cure."

"But, Rebecca . . ."

"Stay here. I won't be . . ."

"Rebecca!" he shouted. "Just go." She couldn't believe what he was saying, but then, she froze at what else he had to say. "This is not the same T-virus you studied. It's a variation, one that multiplies quicker. I'll just get you killed!"

"No . . . that can't be right . . . Billy, how would you know if that's true? There's no proof!"

Billy took out several folded papers from his side-pack, handing them over to her as he still remained seated on the floor, looking down. She skimmed through the article regarding the T-virus S, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I won't lose you here," she said to him, her watery eyes stuck on him. "I won't!"

"Rebecca," Billy said, his face all sweaty, "at least give me the luxury of knowing you'll live." From there, Billy fell unconscious, startling Rebecca as she fell on her knees to help him. Was the virus was already kicking in? Rebecca shook off the thought, imagining that it was just the shock from the wound.

She got up, her heart racing as she gave him a solemn mental promise. _I'll find you the cure, I promise you that._ With those words, she took the keycard and went on to search endlessly for a means to save him. There was no way in hell she was going to let him die after all the years they haven't seen each other. She closed the door behind her after one last glimpse of him, hoping she could keep her promise.


End file.
